


Marks

by ThePugAddict



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Haiku, Hand Jobs, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes is a Little Shit, Kinbaku, Light Bondage, Love, Love Bites, Massage, Romance, Sex, Shameless Smut, What Have I Done, fun with sake, glow in the dark kink, inappropriate use of dragons, literally nothing but smut, passionate romance, the thirst is quite real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePugAddict/pseuds/ThePugAddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and your lover Hanzo have taken things a giant step further. Through your relationship will he become a master marksman in more ways than one.</p><p>(Once a one-shot of trash, now turned into a whole dumpster of sweet, sweet garbage by popular demand.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Selection

Massive hands slowly reached out and rested upon your shoulders. Your body had been shivering from anxiety for the past few minutes, but it was now steadying by Hanzo’s touch. It was amazing to you, really, and rather comforting—for a man with great strength, he could make his hands feel as light as two doves resting upon you. He could do likewise with his voice, for as naturally robust as he typically sounded, the man could speak to you in a low, soothing tone that flowed from his lips like a fine wine. And in this tone, he spoke your name, his deep gaze falling upon your face, searching your eyes as if beckoning to connect with you. Accordingly, you returned his gaze. How could you _not_ , especially when he had those eyes that never ceased to bewitch you? So serious, but so compassionate.

 

“Is this truly what you want?” Hanzo asked you. His thick thumbs drew firm circles on your shoulders. The rest of his fingers had already tucked themselves beneath the edges of your silk robe.

 

Your heartbeat instantly quickened. Right now, you were just one word away from experiencing a night unlike anything you had ever known. You had never been with a man before, so you weren’t sure what to expect. Of course, you weren’t living under a rock; you knew how it worked. But understanding it was not the same thing as experiencing it for yourself. Still, the great unknown could not stop you from doing this. Be it wonderful or terrible, you at least wanted to share this night with Hanzo—the man who was once a mere foreign stranger to you, now transformed into the one who captured your heart. You wanted some way to express your love to him, and feeling confident in the strength of your bond, you saw nothing wrong with giving yourself. Not to mention, biology had become such a powerful force these days, for you had grown so attracted to the marksman that your body simply ached whenever he was not around.

 

Hanzo was keeping himself still, awaiting your response. For a brief second, you had become distracted by his massive upper body, now unclothed and exposing his perfectly cut physique. The small light from the lamp in the corner was just enough to hit and highlight every single muscle, from his thick, broad shoulders all the way down to his abs. Although you could but faintly see it, your eye scanned the beautifully intricate dragon tattoo expanding across his entire left arm and part of his chest—a fine piece of artwork, and perhaps one of his most exotic traits. While you stared at his stunning body, a hot blush graced your cheeks. It was not until you realized that he was still staring at your face that you quickly returned your attention to his eyes. To answer his question, you took a deep breath and nodded your head.

 

But this did not convince him. His hands did not flinch. With a frown, he tilted his head slightly. “You are nervous,” he pointed out.

 

“I’ve never done this before,” you murmured.

 

Hanzo let out a hum. “I see.” He gave you an accepting nod. “Then this makes two of us.”

 

You slightly cocked your brows. How surprising. After all these years traveling the world like a lonely wolf, Hanzo Shimada had never laid with anyone? Not even during his days as the heir to his clan’s underground empire? Oh, hands-down, he could have had any woman he desired back then. “But how?” were the tiny words that slipped from your mouth.

 

Hanzo’s gaze was softening. “I… never had the time for such affairs,” he replied, “Nor did I ever focus on women. I had always avoided unnecessary pleasures, fearing that they would distract me from my progress.”

 

You were slightly puzzled. You knew very well that Hanzo loved you in return, but if romance interfered with his goals, then why did he choose to be with you in the first place? What made you stand out from all the other girls of the world? “Well, what about now?” you asked your lover. “Would you call… _this_ an unnecessary pleasure?...”

 

The man paused. You felt a spark of anxiety until you noticed the faint smirk growing upon his lips. “Not at all,” he breathed.

 

“Then…. what is this to you?....”

 

He let out a light chuckle. You could feel his thumbs deeply tracing your collarbones. “So inquisitive,” he commented. “You are a smart one. You may not realize it, but I think you know the answer deep down. Still, I will tell you.” With a charming look, he brought his face down a little closer, just so his eyes could better connect with yours.  Once again, you could feel your skin growing hotter. Hanzo didn’t smile very often, but when he did, it was like watching cherry blossom trees in bloom. A rare, eventful beauty to behold and to savor. When he continued, his voice descended into a tender whisper. “To me,” he said, “this is an appropriate expression of my love for you… and of my gratitude.”

 

Your gaze deepened. “Your… gratitude?” you whispered back.

 

He nodded. “For everything that you have done for me.”

 

Without realizing, your face leaned a half inch closer to his. “Like what?”

 

He was leaning in further as well. Your face was close enough to his that you could feel his warm air caress your cheeks whenever he released a breath. “For many years, I have been searching the world to become the best form of myself,” he explained, frowning again. “But in truth, ever since leaving my home and losing my family, I had never felt so out of my place in life. Setting a purpose for myself was one thing, but my greatest fear was for my loneliness. I was afraid that I would never again find any place to call home, or anyone to call family, a friend, or an ally. I thought to myself, if I left my clan, then who else would take me in? Me, a wanderer… A lonely outsider…”

 

Sensing the silent taint of insecurity in Hanzo’s voice, your gaze shifted a little lower with sympathy.

 

“And then I found you, [Y/N]…”

 

Your lifted your sight.

 

His gentle smile returned. “You, who never feared me… You, who showed me the utmost kindness and respect… You, who offered me companionship and treated me like you had known me for years… It is because of you that I have learned to let go of my fear. You are proof that in truth, I have far more allies in this world than I realize. Now, I see that I will not be alone on this journey. And, perhaps,… by the end of my journey, I will not have only gained honor and redemption, but I will have found many more treasures than I could have ever imagined.”

 

By the time he finished, you were speechless. Your jaw almost dropped. Many times before, he expressed his feelings for you, but you never realized you meant _this_ much to Hanzo.

 

While the two of you exchanged deep, passionate looks, your faces had ended up literally two inches away from each other. With his hands still upon you, his body had come a little closer to yours. “And that is why I want to do this,” Hanzo mouthed, his breath tickling your lips. “I want to repay you… Tonight, I want you to have me… _All_ of me… Heart, mind and body…”

 

Your lips were parting a little. Quietly, you gaped for oxygen as you felt strangled by the desire surging through you. Your eyes, like your heartbeat, were fluttering to the sweet sound of his words until they closed up tight.

 

Suddenly, you could feel Hanzo’s large palms slowly slide along your shoulders. They were moving apart the edges of your robe, ready to slide the fabric right off your body.

 

“Let me in you,” he sighed, “and I will fill you with all my love.”

 

You opened your eyes. “Hanzo….”

 

“[Y/N]…”

 

Now, your irises were shimmering with deep affection. Slowly, you moved your shoulders in circles, guiding the fabric off you.

 

Seconds later, the marksman’s eyes were blessed by the sight of your robe—the only thing you had on—now pooled at your feet.

 

Your breath paused. You stood there without a sound. You watched your lover’s eyes closely as he viewed your naked body. His expression didn’t shift very much, but after a few seconds, you noticed his pupils dilating and his chest expanding more heavily. “Beautiful,” he uttered beneath a heavy exhale.

 

Butterflies were in your chest. Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink.

 

Then, you could feel your body temperature shoot up by what felt like thousands of degrees. Hanzo’s hands moved up and cupped along your jaw line. Next thing you knew, he was gently guiding your face forward. His eyes were drooping dreamingly, head tilting slightly, lips relaxed.

 

You closed your eyes slowly, surrendering to the pull.

 

Finally, your lips combined in a soft kiss.

 

Your head started to feel numb from pleasure. You enjoyed how his soft, wet lips worked with yours in a perfect rhythm, how his nose brushed up alongside yours, how his facial hair lightly tickled your chin, and so many other things about this. Not only was he an excellent kisser, he just tasted so damn good to begin with. To express your delight, you leaned deeper into the kiss while your hands snaked up from his chest to the back of his neck, then behind his head so you could smooth your fingers through his soft jet-black hair, currently worn up in a short ponytail as per usual.

 

Hanzo immediately responded to your touch and intensified the kiss. At one point, he sneaked his tongue into your mouth and flicked it against yours. Surprised, you let out a small moan, and you flicked your tongue against his in return. It wasn’t long before the play turned into a slow, deep French kiss, your tongues and lips gracefully dancing together.

 

His hands made their way from your cheeks, gradually descending along your figure. He sweetly caressed your features along the way down until he reached your hips, where he stopped to fondle them deliciously before his gigantic arms slid around your waist and drew you in. With a low grunt, he pressed you up against his body while maintaining the kiss. Due to the strength of his warm embrace, you could vividly feel _everything_ on him pressing up against you. His smooth skin, his strong pectorals, his firm abs, and his….

 

_Oh my God…_

 

You continued to French with him, but your eyes had shot open. Your lower stomach, which was right up against his pants, was being poked by something bulging…

 

And quite stiff….

 

Damn... Was he really _that_ turned on by you?

 

With a faint, wet sucking sound, Hanzo carefully pulled out of the kiss. Even the aftermath of the kiss was appeasing—he left your lips glazed with moisture from his mouth, an assuring piece of proof that you definitely weren’t dreaming. And without a doubt, he was enjoying this, too. Aside from his obvious erection, his face glowed with satisfaction, his cheeks delicately tinted red. When his eyes opened, he gave you a heated glance that sent a beautiful ache throughout your flesh. The message was pretty clear: right now, he absolutely _craved_ you. Plus, for some reason, you could just tell that he was going to give you his very best effort tonight. Nothing less.

 

Then, in a tone flavored with passion, Hanzo whispered to you, “Shall we proceed?”

 

No second thoughts. Without hesitation, you nodded your head. You almost couldn’t believe this, actually. For the love of God, who knew your first partner would be some sexy warrior from another country? How could you possibly say no to _this_?

 

Suddenly, you found yourself becoming seemingly weightless as your feet were swept off the floor. Powerful arms cradled your body and lifted you up in a bridal fashion. Your arms stayed draped over Hanzo’s shoulders, however. You simply continued holding onto him, still indulging yourself in his entrancing look, even while he carried you towards the bed. Not taking his eyes off you, the marksman laid you down neatly on your back, close enough to the edge of the bed so that your lower legs could dangle over the edge. Instead of letting them hang, however, he grabbed both legs, then guided them around his waist.

 

There he stood at the end of the bed, still hovering over you with your limbs ensnared around his incredible warrior’s body. From prolonging the eye contact, you quickly realized the gradual shift in your lover’s expression. Your eyes began to widen, for you were starting to witness something that you had never seen before—at least, never from Hanzo. From the shadows upon his face, he shot you with something so intense that you started to sweat all over. An energy, inborn but kept dormant for maybe all his life up until now, was channeling through his stare for you to receive and for every inch of your beloved flesh to absorb. He did not look aggressive, but his visage had turned serious, and somewhat dark. Irises as black as coals were now simmering like blazing black suns, their power radiating from what seemed like a tremendous thirst…. for you.

 

His aura had cast an incredible spell on you, too. Without you even thinking, you instinctively began to relax your whole self, head to toe, allowing every single muscle to become like jelly. Your arms, which were still clinging to his body, were now sliding from his neck and downward like butter melting from his hot body. Your legs, however, remained around his waist, and in fact they tightened around him a little, irking him to come closer to you. Between your legs, you were already starting to get wet, but you didn’t care if he sensed it through the thin fabric of his pants… He was going to find out in a few minutes anyways. Besides, why wouldn’t he want to feel your body getting itself ready to be loved? And by _him_?

 

After your palms finally dropped to your sides, Hanzo reached down and took them, snarling his large, long fingers between yours. He stretched your arms outward and pinned your hands down to the bed. At the same time, his torso pressed down against yours, and you could feel the beads of sweat already forming on his skin. Your breast sensed the rhythm of the powerful, racing heart that ferociously beat against the inner wall of his chest, like a wild tiger fighting to get out of his cage. It just simply amazed you—all these crazy little things happening to this man’s body, and _you_ were the one doing this to him.

 

Hanzo broke eye contact, his head swooping down beneath your chin. His hair graced your skin and relaxed you, forcing you to close your eyes again and to tip your head back. Your delicate neck was then greeted by his warm breath, followed by his pillowy lips and the tease of his beard. You released bantam moans when Hanzo started delivering succulent kisses that felt no different from the sensation of dewy rose petals brushing up along your skin. Meanwhile, his hands tenderly fondled yours, his thumbs teasing your palms and wrists. “Does this please you, [Y/N]?” He mouthed against your neck in the middle of kissing.

 

You were so soothed that you could barely muster up your voice. You really didn’t want to talk right now; you only wanted to feel. Still, it was courteous for him to ask you that. “Yeah,” you managed to whisper, but just faintly.

 

Hanzo’s hands stopped. They leisurely traveled from your hands, down your arms, to your shoulders. Thenceforth, he sneaked them downward between your bodies.

 

You gasped quietly. Both hands cupped over your breasts. In deep, gradual pulsations, he firmly squeezed them, occasionally rubbing them in circles, exploring their softness. Consequently, he forced slightly heavier groans from your throat. Your nipples became hard, and your womanhood grew sensitive and seeped with pleasure.

 

Next, his fleshy palms ceased the teasing. They continued their journey downward, leaving behind two large, red handprints tattooing the skin on each breast (You really hoped those marks would still be there in the morning, just to remind you of what happened).  Simultaneously, his kisses traveled to the center of your throat, traveling higher upon your skin before they found your mouth. He slipped into another passionate kiss with you, and you moved your lips with just as much fervor, drinking him in. A minute into the kiss, however, he stopped. Again, he glowered down at you while he reached back to your legs, peeling them off his waist with care. Curious about what he was doing, you only looked back silently. Had you done something wrong? Was he suddenly uncomfortable about doing this?

 

Far from it….

 

Hanzo cradled one hand beneath your head. You kept observing. His torso lifted up a little, and could see the other hand, now slipping into the space between you two and nearing your…

 

_Holy fuck…_

 

“Is this… alright?...” Hanzo’s expression was stern as always, but his voice was cracking.

 

You bit your lip. You weren’t exactly sure how good he would be, but he had already made you feel so… _aroused._ You were desperate for something down there. Now. “Y-yes,” you begged your lover. “Please….”

 

Taking a deep breath, he replied with a nod and resumed. Carefully, he reached down between your legs, and in back-and-forth strokes, he rubbed your slit.

 

Your jaw dropped. Your breath got shaky. You broke out in a massive sweat. It seemed so shocking, so surreal that the man was touching you right now, and for the first time ever. Regardless, you really wanted this, and you were glad this was actually happening. For too long had you been given no choice but to do this to yourself during your loneliest nights, with nothing but fantasies of Hanzo to quench your burning desire and to get you off. But now, there would be no more lonely nights. Not for a while.

 

An index finger found its way in between your tingling labia. You whined as it curled and slid inside you. Once his digit was all the way into your passage, Hanzo stilled his hand. He briefly looked back into your face, perhaps checking to be sure that you were alright before he continued. On your end, you felt so full inside. A vigorous surge of pleasure was shooting up your spine and electrifying your whole being. Through your eyes and your hefty panting, you expressed your current feelings to him. Your gaze was practically a big outcry for him to keep going.

 

And then he did. His finger started to move inside you. In and out it went, with occasional swirling here and there to explore the oozing walls of your womanhood, experiencing what you felt like, getting a quick taste of where his member was about to go. Brain swirling, squirming around slightly on the bed, you unleashed sounds you never thought you could make before—guttural moans, groans, breaths, and whimpers, much like the ones made only in erotic online videos. It was quite the display for Hanzo to feast his eyes on, and judging from how he progressively fingered you more and more zealously, maybe he found your reactions rather seductive.

 

When the warrior was finished, he withdrew his digit cautiously, a string of fluid trailing from his fingertip before breaking off. He hadn’t even gotten to the main part with you yet, and you were already shaken up into a horny, panting, sweaty mess on the bed. In between your breaths and your heart throbbing in your ears, you could hear him make an inquisitive hum. “Tight,” he muttered to himself. You brushed a few messy hair strands out of your face and then propped yourself up by your elbows, trying to catch your breath. For a first-timer, he certainly did an amazing job on you. But what would he be like during the actual thing?

 

Presently, that question was about to be answered.

 

Hanzo released you and stood all the way up. To observe him better and figure out what he was doing next, you brought your legs up and scooted back on the bed until you reached the pillows. Carefully, you observed him. For a few seconds, all he did was stand there and look at you, breathing almost as heavily as you were. Once again, you had another amazing front-and-center view of his shirtless physique, now gleaming in the light due to his sweat. It almost reminded you of the times you normally saw him when coming back from the gym or from training. Oh, dear lord, you always _loved_ how he looked—pumped up, hair a little messy, hard-worked, and half-naked. And now, he essentially looked that way, this time on the verge of banging you? Well, shit…. This would defeat any hot scene in _50 Shades of Grey_ , times ten.

 

Your eyes honed in on him. The marksman reached down and untied his pants in front of you. When he grabbed each side of his waistband, you clenched the sheets, hands almost shaking as you tried so hard not to drool.

 

And before your very eyes was your fantasy fulfilled. The pants and boxers came all the way down to his knees, then his ankles. Afterwards, he stepped out of them, foot moving the last bit of clothing to the side.

 

Thus, there your lover stood, completely nude.

 

Your mouth almost hit your lap.

 

He was rather… endowed.

 

And very erect.

 

Was that really going to fit?...

 

He set a knee up on the bed and made his way towards you. You just wanted to scurry up to him and attack him, but his dreamy stare had frozen you in place until he approached you. “Lay on your back,” he droned.

 

You obeyed without delay, letting yourself collapse onto your back.

 

Hanzo first moved your legs apart. After that, he crawled up and hovered himself over you. One last time, he paused to deliver another meaningful stare, not just to absorb the sight of you at the peak of giving yourself to him, but also to triple ensure that you were okay with this decision, in case you somehow changed your mind.

 

But obviously, you gave him no sign of uncertainty. At this point, you were _way_ far from it.

 

He gripped underneath your thighs, holding them fondly. “Ready?” he whispered.

 

“Ready,” you breathed.

 

And while he positioned himself, you closed your eyes.

 

A tap against your passage.

 

A massive entrance.

Then a sting.

 

A little ache.

 

You let out a cry. Your hands flung around his torso and clung to his back, nails digging into his skin. Hanzo kept himself still, hushing you softly and caressing your thighs to comfort you. After the passing of a moment or so, the sting vanished. All that remained was the abundance of him within you, in addition to the boiling warmth of your virginity slipping away.

 

You could’ve just beat your chest and screamed it out to the world. From this point onward, you were his. Dammit, you were Hanzo Shimada’s. His, _all his_ , right here, right now, and only for _him_ to have. And heaven knew you loved him. And only him.

 

Your lover gave you a thrust.

 

Then another.

 

And another.

 

Hanzo set himself in a slow rhythm, fucking you slowly, releasing hefty grunts. “[Y/N],” he groaned through his teeth. “It… It feels so… hot inside you…”

 

“Y-you’re… Incredible,” you gasped.

 

“Shall I… _U-uungh_ ….. Shall I move quicker?...”

 

“Please…”

 

Hanzo increased the pace of his strong hips, hitting into you a little harder as well. His grip on your thighs was tightening and adding to your pleasure all the more. Accordingly, you expressed your satisfaction with noises from out your lips, which tempted him to capture your mouth into another passionate kiss in the middle of the humping.

 

Although your bodies clearly enjoyed the connection, staying in a typical laying position the entire time wouldn’t cut it. Naturally, you two wanted to try different positions. Sure, it was your first time, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out other ways to make love creatively. After a few minutes, Hanzo pulled out and rolled you over onto your stomach. You got onto your hands and knees, and he stood up on his knees from behind, grabbing you by the hips and re-entering you. He continued thrusting into to you, this time a little faster and harder. Both of your groans had become louder as you got further into it, and at some points he moaned your name like he was begging for water. You could only help but lean into his thrusts, feeling himself filling you up inside with his most immense love.

 

After a few minutes of lovemaking dog-style, you and your lover shifted into a third position. Still banging you from behind, he lustfully grabbed your body and pressed your back up against him. He kept his muscular arms wrapped around you, constricting you possessively like two pythons. His heavy breath was literally next to your ear, and as you shut your eyes and moaned, Hanzo smoldered your ear, neck and shoulder with aggressive wet kisses as he made love to you harder, focusing on jamming his cock deeper up inside you. “My love,” he growled into your skin. “….. [Y/N]…. My love…”

 

“Yes, Hanzo,” you moaned passionately. “Oh, yes, it’s me… I’m here….”

 

Losing control from the sound of your voice, Hanzo unleashed a loving growl and bit into your shoulder. You cried out from both pain and pleasure, and your hand shot up to reach around his head and rubbed his thick neck in sheer approval.

 

He sucked heavily on the spot until his teeth released your skin, saliva trailing from a reddened spot that would _definitely_ be there when you woke up in the morning. Such a love bite hurt like hell, but it strangely felt so mind-blowing, perhaps more so than the sex. Maybe the reason was that it meant so much more than just a way to please you—in a way, it had meaning. Of all people, Hanzo Shimada had just made his mark on you. Spiritually, he was claiming you, and he just wanted to make sure it was seen. Oh, right now, he had given his title as “master marksman” a whole new meaning…

 

“Hanzo,” you groaned louder, your body feeling like it was on fire. “Oh, fuck…”

 

“Face me,” he huffed against your ear. He paused humping you to turn you around hastily. “Get on top of me,” he demanded. “I want to watch you.”

 

Turning around, you pressed onto his chest, forcing him to fall over onto his back. At the same time, he pulled you over onto him and feverishly settled you by the hips back over his large, throbbing manhood. With harder might, he thrusted upward into you like a man possessed. You cried in passion as you rid him, mind-blown, head swirling like a steaming, sweet hurricane. And he watched you, in your beautiful array of coming apart before him, with infatuation as deep as an ocean. The dance of your bodies was causing so much damn chaos in you, like you were just on the verge of getting physically shattered to a million pieces or breaking in half at the spine if you got any higher.

 

Now, something was starting to well up in your flesh. A rising pressure of some sort. Not physical, but…. emotional?... Mental?....

 

“O-oh,… [Y/N]… [Y/N],” panted Hanzo from his open mouth. “I think…. I’m…. I’m gonna….”

 

“M-…. Me…. Me too!”

 

A miniature roar escaped him as he sat up and created another position with you, quickly greeted by the embrace of your wanting arms. Heart met heart as the two of you got into a sitting-up position and held each other tightly in your arms. With possibly all the strength of his hips, Hanzo fucked you hard and fast, giving you his all like he had promised.

 

This was it. You and him were just about to blow. The climax was nearing.

 

“Hanzo,” you cried. “Hanzo.”

 

“[Y/N]…”

 

“Hanzo…”

 

“[Y/N]….”

 

“Uhhhhh… Uuuuungh!....”

 

“Mmmmph…. Hnnngh!....”

 

You were nearly hyperventilating, eyes shut tight, mouth wide open.

 

Hanzo’s arms were shaking a little. “[Y/N], I’m almost there!...”

 

“O-oh god!...”

 

“I’m almost there!...”

 

“A-aah! Aaah!”

 

“I’m there, I’m there, I’M….. OH MY G—“

 

With one last wild outcry, the both of you were thrown viciously into your first-ever climax, together.

 

A simultaneous, wild earthquake that was your love.

 

Then, your love burst forth and poured into each other.

 

Dizziness…

 

Blankness….

 

Heaven.

 

The two of you had fallen quiet. Your mouths were still wide open, but your breaths were calming down. With an exhausted groan, Hanzo collapsed to his side and took you down with him.

 

For the rest of that night onward, you laid right beside your marksman, held tightly in his arms, your freshly taken body up against his own. For almost an hour, you were staring into each other’s eyes without a sound, although you were singing loud, sweet love songs to one another through your shining irises.

 

Before falling asleep, Hanzo noticed you rubbing the area on your shoulder where he “marked” you earlier. His work was still there, now forming a visible black-and-blue mark upon you. He did nothing but softly smile, then place his hand upon yours, right on top of that area. You didn’t regret anything. Neither did he.

 

It wasn’t a lie. His aim was true.

 

And tonight, Hanzo had just made his best mark. Ever.


	2. Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit... Over a thousand views and 100 likes on this fanfic? You guys are sluts.
> 
> Nah, just kidding. You guys are awesome. Thanks for the support! Because you guys loved it so much, I decided to add another chapter for fun. Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Also, I finally broke down and downloaded Overwatch onto my PC. So please, if you'd like, then add me to your friends list, and we can kick some ass together. Just an FYI, I use Widowmaker almost every single time because I suck the least when I use her. Battle.net name is ThePugAddict, and the number is 1847.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy. If you'll excuse me, I need to go shower in some holy water.

 

 

It had been a very long week for you. And in this circumstance, long meant _grueling_. After quite some months of work as a mercenary, your job was starting to seem a bit monotonous, but you figured the cure to your boredom was to push yourself to go above and beyond. Hence, for the past week, you put quite some time into enhancing your skills via a new training routine that was sure to shape you up into an A-plus predator on the battlefield. Your days were jam-packed with motivation, a balanced diet and a strict schedule full of long exercises that were not at all designed for the fragile. The first three days were much easier than you thought, since they only consisted of the “pre-training” sessions, which you got the hang of right away. Then came Day 1 of the actual training…

 

And let’s just say, you woke up on Day 2 feeling as if you got hit by a freaking bus. From head to toe, you were so sore that it had taken you probably a half hour just to physically get yourself out of your bed this morning. Every other simple activity felt like a chore, too: walking, walking up steps, standing up, and especially sitting down (the toilet was your arch enemy for this one). Thank God your training schedule was allowing you the day off, or else you very well would’ve ripped like a sheet of loose-leaf.

 

It only took Hanzo one brief look at you to notice the level of your pain. From personal experience, he very much understood your condition. Given that he was displeased to see you in corporal torment, he offered to tend to you that evening with a treatment that he commonly used back home and was sure would alleviate you in no time. Needless to say, you accepted your man’s offer. You warmly invited him over for the night, and once sunset rolled around, the marksman arrived at your apartment. Relieved already, you brought him inside and ushered him first-thing into your bedroom. Oh, sweet lord, was Hanzo about to be your glorious gift from the heavens (when was he _not_?). After this little “therapy session” with your love, maybe you would be able to walk normally by tomorrow morning.

 

When Hanzo walked in, he went over to your dresser and set his bag down on top. Meanwhile, you clumsily flopped onto your bed, watching him as he rustled through his bag and withdrew a jar containing a homemade, green-tinted gel. You figured it to be the special remedy that Hanzo said he relied on to help soothe his body during training months and, therefore, the treatment that he absolutely swore by. After setting the jar down on the dresser, he turned around and looked at you. “Again, where does it hurt, exactly?” he asked you.

 

“Ummm….” You started to chuckle half-jokingly as you thought about your pain. “Well, pretty much everywhere,” you replied.

 

Hanzo kept a straight face. Scratching his side-burn and then crossing his arms, he hummed pensively and pursed his lips. “Then I will need all of your clothes off,” he stated.

 

You sat up with a faint blush. This wasn’t new for you, however. He had seen you naked many times before. Still, every time you undressed for him, it normally didn’t happen without some sort of intimate moment between you two. He was only going to give you a simple massage, as far as you knew. But was he really anticipating on doing anything more than _that_ tonight? Better yet, could he be using this moment as an opportunity to start up the mood?...

 

No, he couldn’t be. He knew you were in pain tonight. Plus, it wasn’t like Hanzo to have any hidden motives. He was usually quite transparent—if he was in need of any physical connection, he would have flat-out told you.

 

So, yeah. Nothing but a massage, you figured. You nodded your head to Hanzo. According to his instruction, you peeled your clothing off one piece at a time, throwing your stuff carelessly into a pile on the floor. It took you a bit longer than usual, since it still felt like your muscles were being torn in two, even with such simple movements. While you undressed, you noticed the marksman subtly eyeing you one last time before he turned his back to the bed. To make himself at home, he slid his massive blue bow off his torso, then set it down against the wall beside the dresser. Arrows and metal rattled as he carefully slung the matching quiver off and set it in the same spot. Next to come off was the single right gauntlet, which he slipped off and placed on top of the dresser. You expected him to keep everything else on—belt, robe and all—since he was only going to be working with his hands.

 

But you assumed too quickly. In the middle of removing your bra, something caught your eye and made you stall—the sight of Hanzo’s large arms behind his back, and his thick fingers working in between the knot of his belt. You couldn’t help but turn your head in his direction while removing your bra, just to gawk at him more closely while he wasn’t looking. The black robe had loosened around his thick body as the belt unraveled from his waist and slowly coiled to the floor. It wasn’t long before the sleeveless side of his robe slipped around him and dangled loosely behind him, until he peeled off the other side of his robe and let it slide down his arm.

 

Nothing—not even excruciating, aching muscles—could ever render you as frozen as Hanzo could. Not as Hanzo just did. No matter how many times you saw it, his body would always mesmerize you. Just like it was the first time you set eyes upon that damn warrior. In this moment, you honestly didn’t care if he caught you staring. Besides, what were you guilty for? It wasn’t your fault that the man had sun-kissed skin so thin that it exposed the heart-throbbing bumps, lumps, curves and crevices that were his muscles. It wasn’t your fault that they were riddled all over him from head to toe, most notably all over his wide back, like how red covers a rose. It wasn’t your fault that they twitched, shifted and rolled beneath his skin so gracefully with every move me hade.

 

Good God. Those sweet, sweet muscles. Those damn, delicious, tempting muscles. They were waves in a big, fleshy ocean. And all you wanted to do was ride them.

 

“You can keep those on.”

 

Hanzo’s voice cut you out of the trance. You realized that your eyes were now meeting with amber orbs that were staring blankly right back at you yet again. He had caught you just in the middle of sliding one side of your panties down your hip, but his sentence had put your stripping on pause, and so you only returned the stare with your hand just below your hip, still tugging at the single thing you had left on your body. After a few seconds of recollecting yourself and realizing what you were doing, you replied with a faint, “Oh,” then slipped your panties back up.

 

Hanzo broke eye contact with you so he could resume preparing himself (if suddenly going shirtless was even part of it). The last to go were his cybernetic shoes, which he unclicked and then slipped off his feet. “How do you adjust the lighting in your room?” he asked while doing so, glancing up at you briefly.

 

You blinked twice, then pointed to a small, sliding light switch that was on the wall just off to the side of your dresser. “Just slide that down,” you answered. Why did he need to adjust the lights?

 

The dark-haired man stood up, kicked his shoes aside and looked to where you pointed. He rubbed the back of his thick neck, walking over casually to the light switch and pinching the knob with his fingers. Although he slid it down by just a notch, the bedroom lights dimmed substantially. Now, it was dark enough in the room that you could probably fall asleep to it, yet it was just enough to see every form clearly, especially the person who twisted back around to set his emotionless amber eyes upon you.

 

Surprised at the atmospheric change, you eyeballed him. And then, it hit you. Suddenly, you understood what was up: it was the reason for killing the extra light, and perhaps it was the same reason for ditching the shirt. Tonight, it seemed like he was trying to exceed expectations by dishing you some pleasure on the side of your therapy. Obviously, Hanzo didn’t just want to heal you. He was just doing as he normally did for you—giving you nothing but his best. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to give you wondrous surprises like this from time to time, as these behaviors were merely ways of expressing his feelings. “Actions speak louder than words,” so they say, and Hanzo had clearly taken this philosophy to heart. Considering you were the love of his life, it should have been no surprise that he was consequently treating you like a goddess this evening. Just like he always had.

 

With all this in mind, you were rather pleased, and perhaps a little excited. These gestures of love proved effective on you every time, and you would have preferred something like this over a simple “I love you” any day.

 

Perhaps one of the reasons why you loved the man so much.

 

Facing you entirely, Hanzo reached to the side and grabbed the jar of gel. Carefully did he twist off the metal lid and set it on the dresser. Next, he started to walk toward you. “Lay on your stomach,” he told you serenely.

 

Without hesitation, you managed to hoist your sore legs onto your bed. You rolled over onto your stomach, but you didn’t lay down until the man had approached the side of your bed. You had kept yourself propped up by your elbows while you watched him come close to you, just so you could stare at him a little more. Candidly, it was difficult to ignore an extremely buff, shirtless boyfriend coming physically closer and closer to you, as many times as you tasted that eye candy before. But you couldn’t keep it up for long; once Hanzo propped a knee up onto the mattress, you had to turn away and rest your head down. That was alright: hopefully, you could flip over soon and watch him again. Regardless, your skin nearly vibrated from the thought of his touch alone, which gradually took over your mind when you felt the mattress shifting and the bed squeaking under you from his weight. Automatically, eyes shut tight as you naturally fixated on nothing more than sensation. You tuned in to the two knees digging into the mattress on each side of your hips, followed by the hot skin of his calves gracing you just barely. Knowing that pleasure was just a touch away, a faint smile found its place on your lips.

 

“Where does it hurt you the most?” murmured Hanzo from above.

 

You were silent for about a minute. You hummed and shifted your body a little to help you identify the sorest parts. “Upper back and shoulders,” you finally answered. That area was always the most trouble. What a miracle it would be if he could get the knots out of there, too; not just the present pain.

 

The bed squeaked again while Hanzo’s weight distribution changed yet again. You could sense him leaning over you to set the jar down on your nightstand. Afterwards, he returned to his previous position, and there was wetness laced into the ensuing sound of his hands rubbing together. Once a second or two passed, your nerves were taken by surprise from the cold, wet chill of the special gel, mixed in with the sweet warmth of large hands. Your shoulder twitched a bit, but you kept still. Hanzo began by slowly, firmly smoothing out your back and shoulders, rubbing the gel evenly. It had been just a few seconds, but you could already feel something, possibly the beginning of the liquid’s therapeutic effects—a tingling fire-and-ice sensation, as if a hot pad and some ice cubes were placed on you at the same time. It felt odd to you initially, but after a while did the coldness diminish and leave plain warmth to comfort you. Without a doubt, it felt pretty good.

 

And then Hanzo’s palms pressed into your shoulders, smack dab on a tender spot…

 

A flaming pain where he massaged. Of course, it hurt like hell. The muscles were inflamed, so what did you expect? But damn, was it hurting so…. _good_.

 

Your face twitched, and you formed fists in the sheets. “N-nnngh…”

 

Hanzo’s fists glided outward along the muscles. When you grunted, the pressure lightened as he went along. “Please, tell me if I’m hurting you too much,” he instructed, an apology surfacing amongst his deep tone.

 

Not wanting to upset Hanzo, you tried your best to act like it wasn’t that bad. Honestly, your pain was magnifying your pleasure, in a bazaar kind of way. Whether your lover would be weirded out or disapproving of this truth you weren’t quite sure… Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t that weird. But for now, you wanted to act like there wasn’t much pain to begin with. “N-no, no,” you muttered to the side. “You’re doing fine. Just…. keep going… please.”

 

Just then, your man firmly squeezed both of your shoulders. “As you wish,” he responded, rubbing deeply and forcing another soft grunt out of you. His palms traveled down from your shoulders and pressed in outward strokes after every inch, almost like he was smoothing out bread dough, only a little rougher. His palms already aggravated some knots in your back, which were quite a few in number, more so than you realized. Every time he passed over one, he would stop to press his thumb upon the tender spot, or at least rub attentively around the area to loosen it. Again, the pressure made these areas rather tender, but with every undone knot came a burst of satisfaction, followed by the warmth of the gel that soothed the soreness.

 

Once Hanzo was done with your upper back and shoulders, he reached over to his jar of gel and poured some more into his palm. Then, he rubbed his hands together again and continued the massage, this time on your lower back and your sides. From that point onward, he worked his way down your body ever so steadily, giving each area just as much attention and care. As he kept massaging, your grunts slowly warped into sighs and deep breaths. Your back muscles were still pained by Hanzo’s force, but as you adjusted to the feeling with time, the pleasure became profound. Soon, you could not endure a single rub, squeeze, dig, press, or smooth-over without a faint, pleasurable reaction every time, from shifting an arm or leg to letting out a sigh.

 

But at a point when you became less self-aware, you clenched the sheets. Your cheeks turned slightly pink….

 

And a sensual moan escaped your lips.

 

Hanzo’s hands, now on your legs, had suddenly ceased.

 

Realizing what you had just done—and what Hanzo very well just heard—your eyes opened up. Your pleasure was abruptly shattered by awkwardness. Did you seriously just moan from a simple massage? And not just any moan, but one of the moans you typically make when you’re…

 

_Oh geez_ …

 

After a brief pause, Hanzo’s low voice broke the silence. “Is… everything alright, [Y/N]?” He sounded confused, and maybe a bit surprised.

 

You bit your lip. You weren’t sure how to respond other than with a trembling, “Yeah.” How else were you going to explain your apparent sensitivity to his touches without seeming so hypersexual? Not that you were afraid of expressing your urges to Hanzo, but you weren’t sure how he would feel about you being so easily aroused, and this quickly, all from merely massaging you for like five minutes. _You_ weren’t even sure how you felt about it; you didn’t even know you were that easily turned on until just now. After all, you two had only just started becoming sexually active, so there was probably an array of things you (let alone Hanzo) did not yet know about your body. So, how would you even be able to express this in words?

 

Hanzo wasn’t saying anything else, nor did his hands resume. Because of this, you were starting to get worried. Had your random reaction put him off? Your fear mustered enough boldness in you to have this question answered. “I-I’m fine, Hanzo,” you said sheepishly. “A-are… Are you alright?... Why have you stopped?”

 

“Ummm…”

 

Your embarrassment was enflamed. Right now, you really wished you were a turtle, just so you could slink out of his sight and hide yourself away in a little shell. You didn’t even dare to turn your head and read his face. Still, your awkwardness had you vomiting out the truth. “Oh my gosh, I’m s-so sorry,” you stuttered hastily. “I didn’t mean to do that, I was just—“

 

“Do not apologize,” interrupted Hanzo.

 

You were silent for a minute. Oddly, Hanzo’s voice sounded just as shaky as yours. “What do you mean?” you asked slowly.

 

His hands were now tensing up where they had paused. “Nothing is wrong… I-it isn’t you, not at all,” he said. “It’s just that I’m… Well, uhhhh.... Hmm…. How do I explain?....”

 

“You’re…?”

 

“Well… Doing this for you…. I certainly _e-enjoy_ this as much as you do,” he stressed. “But… Seeing how you respond to it… makes me feel….”

 

“Y-yes?...”

 

“Oh, what’s the word?” he muttered to himself.

 

You felt a little sick to your stomach now. Either he had briefly forgotten the English word for it, or he was hesitant because it was something you didn’t want to hear. With your mind always jumping to the worst case scenario, you believed it to be the latter. Or maybe both. “Go on,” you urged him reluctantly.

 

“I’m feeling a little…. How do you say….”

 

You prepared yourself. How did your damn, uncontrolled, random moaning make him feel? _Uncomfortable? Awkward? Out of it?_

 

Finally, Hanzo uttered out the final verdict. That brief, hefty word he was looking for…

 

“Horny.”

 

All your racing thoughts came to a screeching halt. Is that what he just said? _Horny_? That answer was far from what you anticipated… _Way_ far… Did he really mean it? Before you threw a single question at him, you quickly propped yourself up by your elbows and turned your head to look up at him.

 

Your face must have turned as red as a strawberry when you saw him.

 

Hanzo’s lovely amber eyes were beaming wide at your face, underlined by two scarlet-tinted cheeks. Although it wasn’t exactly hot in the bedroom (at least not to you), the marksman’s forehead—much like the rest of his body—was glazed with small beads of sweat.

 

Nevertheless, your eyes weren’t focused on his face for long. Not with that bulge forming in the front of his pants, in plain sight.

 

Well, at least you weren’t the only one worked up right now.

 

Hanzo’s hands were moving again. As he maintained eye contact with you, his thumbs drew circles into your skin. “You feel it as well,” he discerned quietly.

 

Your pleasure had not disappeared. With the fear gone, it returned to the surface to claim your mind again. The rapid resurge of that beautiful emotion had electrified your heart and shortened your breath. Now that you didn’t have to worry so much about holding it in, you confirmed his observation by nodding silently.

 

The marksman squeezed your thighs tighter. It wasn’t long before his massive hands travelled back up to your hips, gripping onto them. As if lust started to control his limbs, he gently tugged your hips as if intending to pull them up against his own. He didn’t move you at all, but you could tell that he definitely wanted to. In spite of everything, something was halting your lover.

 

You decided to be straightforward with him. “Hanzo, if you want to, we can do it right now,” you said.

 

Hanzo stared and blinked twice. “But you are in pain,” he commented. “I fear that I will hurt you even more.”

 

You carefully flipped yourself over onto your back and propped yourself into a sitting-up posture. “You won’t,” you retorted while shaking your head. “I feel a little better, now that you’ve helped me.”

 

The man withdrew his hands. After neatly sitting himself up straight, he placed his hands in his lap. He kept staring at you with the same blush. “Are you sure, [Y/N]? As much as I desire you right now, I can manage to wait until you are fully healed. _That_ I don’t want to hinder.”

 

You pursed your lips and looked to the side, thinking to yourself. You absolutely wanted it now, just as much as he did. Hell, you didn’t care if you were still sore right now: that man could fuck you right after breaking every bone in your body for all you cared. Yet, at the same time, his concern was understandable, so you wanted to respect his wishes for you.

 

Then, as you eyeballed the jar of gel on your nightstand, a thought popped into your head. You turned your face back to Hanzo, a clever smile already glowing. “Then I have an idea…”

 

~ooo~

 

You choked up his name and exhaled erratically. He was so big. Thankfully, in combination with some gel, you were wet enough that he could gracefully glide into you.

 

“[Y-Y/N],” he huffed against your ear. As he laid back and feverishly thrusted you from behind, he used the excess liquid to fondle your breasts. With forceful motions did he rub, circle, knead and squeeze them, occasionally digging his thumbs into your nipples.

 

“O-oh my god,” you gasped. The carnality was enflaming you inside and out, as warmly as did the gel. You braced yourself on the bed and arched your back to lean into the motions, scrunching your sheets with all your strength. The electric vitality was filling you up inside to the very brim, and it felt like more than what you could contain. You desperately strived to let that energy out somehow, whether it irked you to work your hips harder against his or even grip something—if not him—as tightly as humanly possible.

 

With one hand still working on your chest, Hanzo brought the other hand up and hastily grabbed your jaw. He twisted your head to the side and captured your lips in a rough kiss. He growled into your mouth before flicking his tongue against the inner walls of your oral cavity. Seeming from how he was able to do this while touching and making love to you simultaneously, his coordination must have been excellent—one of the physical gifts of being a warrior, and conceivably one of the things you enjoyed. A rather fine choice you made to pick him as your mate.

 

A rather brave choice, too. As he pulled away, his teeth snagged your lower lip. A reminder to you that a night with Hanzo Shimada was never complete without “marking.” Would the soothing gel heal that sort of pain, too?

 

You didn’t care. In fact, you didn’t want it to.

 

“Face me,” he snarled beneath a lustful breath.

 

Pulling yourself up off him, you rotated yourself to do as he pleaded. Your gaze was instantly caught by his handsomely chiseled face, currently shaded with wild passion. Like sweet bait, his beauty lured your nude, warm torso up against him and your femininity straight back down onto his length.

 

As he embraced you, he thrusted back into you vigorously, ramming you in just the right spot. With a small cry, you had been brought a step closer to coming. To encourage him to keep going, you held to him tightly and snuck a wide, wet kiss on his throat.

 

You were just asking for it. He thrusted into you harder and faster. And your kiss was returned with the gripping of your hair and the exposure of your neck to the mercy of Hanzo’s teeth.

 

He bit down.

 

You groaned aloud. Your nails dug into his skin sun-kissed skin. It had stung you so sharply. It had felt no different from an arrow piercing the surface. But oh, sweet lord, there was no distinction right now between pain and pleasure!

 

He kept his teeth tugging, gnawing and moving around on the same spot, at least for another minute while thrusting you strongly. Your mind was just as lost as his while you neared your climax. From how his cock started to twitch inside you, he wasn’t too far away from that point either.

 

Hanzo released the skin of your neck.

 

Your eyes opened back up in wonder. Next thing you knew, forehead met forehead, and you and your lover engaged in a frenzied stare accompanied by heavy panting.

 

“[Y/N]…”

 

“Hanzo…”

 

“I… I love you…”

 

“I love you, t—“

 

Hanzo sank his jaws down on your shoulder.

 

“A—aaaah~!” Your head snapped backward, and your mouth shot open.

 

Now together in a tense, sexual chaos, you two fucked as powerfully as you could stand without breaking. Your lover’s bite sank into you progressively as he advanced to the very edge of coming, so intensely that he almost tasted your blood. With the moment getting astronomically intense, your vision became slightly blurry, and your head spun.

 

Then came the great climax.

 

Hanzo cried out your name.

 

You cried out his.

 

Finally, your senses erupted in a heavenly blossom, and you orgasmed.

 

~ooo~

 

It had been only ten minutes, and the archer was already sleeping like a rock.

 

You sat on the edge of the bed, slipping a t-shirt on and then looking over your shoulder when you heard him snore. Looking into his peaceful face made you smile and even chuckle once. For such an intimidating-looking man, he was oddly cute while asleep. It almost made you want to take a photo of it, just so you could tease him about it in the morning.

 

Nah…. He would probably make you delete it.

 

Tossing the idea out of your brain, you propped yourself up onto the bed. Reaching down underneath your bed, you pulled out an extra fuzzy blanket to throw over yourself and Hanzo. After unfolding it and spreading it out over your bodies, you turned off the lamp beside your bed. Then, you laid down and scooted over, snuggling up right beside him.

 

Before dozing off, you remembered something that made you cuss in your head. You had to train again tomorrow morning, just as roughly as you had on Day 1…

 

Realizing something made you smile, however. Maybe getting sore all over again would mean another massage therapy session.

 

Yep. You could totally handle this training program.


	3. Fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone, and thank you so much for all your support. This work just hit over 200 likes, so I'm quite surprised and very happy that you Overwatch fans are this thirsty. I really enjoy making these stories, so I took the liberty of making another chapter to this beautiful fic (and more may come in the future).
> 
> Also, I've recently made a youtube channel and have decided to try my skills at making a new series of video's titled "Writer's Readhab," where basically I just read fanfics for you peple based on what you recommend. So don't forget to check out my channel in the link provided: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0qL6ikPdB1Rj0fUI-civaQ
> 
> Lastly, I'd also like for you guys to check out this recent video made by the Youtuber known as The Mystery Zone, who just did a recent reading of Chapter 1 of this fanfic. Since it's actually more of a comedy type of video, you're probably not going to be as wet as my writing typically makes you....
> 
> Actually, if anything, it may scare you a little.... scare you so much that it will make you dry...
> 
> very, very, very dry....
> 
> But anyways, here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zECeQ2Drvj4
> 
> Now please, sit back, relax, and enjoy this third chapter of "Marks," written by yours truly.

 

 

“ _Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau_!”

 

The outcry was barely audible to you over the sound of guns blazing and people shouting. However, a flashing, electric explosion of blue light went off from the corner of your eye. You were on the verge of firing a shot at Mercy’s head, until this intense flicker obstructed your vision before you could pull the trigger. You cursed and gritted your teeth, eyes burning from the flare, forcing you to shield your face and turn your head in the other direction.

_Shit_ …. You were just thrown off guard. And right when you had a perfect shot of the enemy. Unfortunately, it was a perfect shot you could not afford to miss—that is, unless you wanted to throw away the last chance your team had for victory. The enemy was just on the verge of delivering the payload successfully, albeit they had only a few seconds left on the clock. Your team had to give it their all and stall them at all costs, and every last bit of time counted. Even if you could steal away just a second from the enemy. _Just one damn second_. And had you sniped the enemy’s healer, you could’ve helped stall the payload for at least more than that. Maybe enough to win, even.

 

But you didn’t take the shot. You blew it.

 

No…. Your _ally_ blew it. Whatever stupid ass-hat shot off that light in your face had just blew it for everyone.

 

Good lord, you and your team had one job!

 

The light dimmed. Your eyes finally adjusted, and you were able to put your hand down to peer down upon the battlefield again.

 

Had it not been for the light, your eyes would have been twice as open as they were now. No need to worry about missing that shot—to your shock, Mercy had dropped her weapon and collapsed to the ground. And so too could you see the culprit of the doctor’s demise.

 

It looked like some breathtaking light show in mid-air. For those in its path, however, the view was probably more terrifying than astounding. Manifesting like ghosts, two massive blue dragons snaked through the air in a corkscrew fashion. They bore sharp teeth, deep snarls and hostile white eyes to all unfortunate souls on the battlefield, the fighters now seeming as pitiful as ants compared to these monsters. They gracefully passed around your allies, and if anything, they bemused them with their magnificent luminosity. Whereas your enemies, who were clearly not so fortunate, were lunged upon and assaulted by the most unforgiving gust of aura until their legs gave out beneath them. After Mercy had fallen, Reaper was the next to go; he was just in the middle of firing bullets at Tracer before the dragons swooped down upon him. Sharing the same fate as their comrade were D.Va and Widowmaker—the last enemies to get eliminated before the phantom dragons finally faded into blue clouds of mist and vanished.

 

In the midst of it all stood the payload, now stopped in its tracks and just a hairwidth away from its destination.

 

_Victory!_

Lowering your weapon, you looked down at your watch. The timer had hit zero.

 

Tracer unleashed an elated squeal. Lúcio shouted from afar, pumping his fist in the air. Junkrat whistled and then threw a few more taunts and insults at McCree, who was glaring from beneath his hat with a scowl on his lips and then running off while cursing at your teammate. Roadhog—standing there looking as impassive as usual—expressed his enthusiasm by giving McCree the finger as he ran past him.

 

You ignored your team’s cheers for a moment and shifted your attention over to the source of that amazing display: the “stupid ass-hat” who actually turned out to be the hero of your team. Not just the hero of your team, but none other than Hanzo Shimada. Bow lowering downward, he stood atop a crate not too far away from you, a stern but wary look etched into his face. Although he displayed no pride nor dissatisfaction with his work, he peered down attentively at the scene for at least ten seconds. To those who didn’t know the man, the face could often be quite deceiving; a blank, deep stare could be hiding an overwhelming slurry of emotion. Knowing him, however, and looking at this instance, there was no emotion for him to hide in the first place. If anything, he felt relieved. His perfection wasn’t worthy of boasting. Merely a task fulfilled. That was all.

 

The marksman’s sight moved in your direction until he made immediate eye contact with you. Simply, you gazed back at him, and you acknowledged him with an assuring smile.

 

Hanzo’s face didn’t change. Nevertheless, he responded to you with a gentle nod.

 

~ooo~

 

“Oi! Roadhog! Ya’ also wan’ teh tellem wha’ McCree did whils we wer foightin’? Tha’ mothafockin’ cowboy… When Ah was throwin’ me bombs at ‘im, he whips out ‘is gon, an’ he foiyes no’ one, no’ two, bu’ _threy bullets_ tha’ just bareley scrape me dam innah thoighs!... Hah… Ah think he was troin’ teh shewt mey in th’ _dick_! Ain’t tha’ jost weak? Ah meyn…. Shewting a fella in th’ dick? Realley? Ya’ know wha’ Ah call tha’?... That’s fockin’ cheyp, tha’ is!..... Eh well…. Whatevah…. We beyt ‘is ass tehday, so serves ‘im roight.”

 

Roadhog was barely listening. While Junkrat sat near the campfire ranting, his comrade was too preoccupied shoving an entire dozen of hot dogs on his stick.

 

Tracer stood just behind the giant man, holding a bare campfire stick and frowning as she watched him. “H-hey, save some for me, big guy,” she whined. “I’m hungry, too!” In spite of her whimper, the little Brit received a low, irritated mumble in return while Roadhog stacked on a few more franks.

 

Lúcio took another bite of his hot dog and stared at the pair. “Better yet, save some for the man of the hour, dude,” he said after swallowing. “Hanzo deserves it. If he didn’t work all his spooky mystical dragon magic at the very end of the battle, we would’ve gotten ourselves _spanked_.”

 

By the mention of his name, Hanzo snapped out of his pensive state and glanced at Lúcio from across the fire. “Go ahead and eat,” he said. “I am alright.”

 

The D.J. lifted a brow. “You sure, Hanzo? If you’re gonna have one, you better eat soon while you still can, or else the vacuum over there is gonna suck them up.”

 

Roadhog was about to put one last wiener on his stick but had set it down quietly and looked over his shoulder at Lúcio. Had he not had his mask on, everyone would’ve seen a glare that looked like the outlaw had just been told that he had man-boobs (which he did, by the way).

 

“Hmmh….” The archer returned his stare to the ground. “Then I suppose I’ll have one.”

 

“Then stay right where you are,” Tracer beamed while snatching the hot dog that Roadhog spared. “I’ll cook one for you! [Y/N], would you like one as well?”

 

You looked away from Hanzo and smiled over at Tracer. “Sure thing,” you responded. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem, love!” Tracer grabbed two more franks and stuck them on her stick.

 

You stared at the blazing campfire quietly for a minute. Junkrat had kept on complaining to everyone about McCree, but you had tuned out his voice and slipped into a peaceful trance, watching the flames crackle and ripple, embracing the warmth radiating upon the front of you. You were sitting there without a sound until Hanzo placed a hand on your shoulder, asking for your attention. You looked over at him. The wrinkle of seriousness in his brows had softened a bit. “ _[Y/N], a word with you, if I may_ ,” he said in Japanese.

 

Your face felt twice as warm now. Clearly, another one of your intimate conversations—if you ever had them in front of your teammates, or in front of anyone else for that matter, you two always spoke in his mother tongue for obvious reasons. Unless, of course, Genji was around, which you two would then have to wait until he was gone. It seemed a bit out of the blue to have a conversation right now, but you agreed to chat with him. You leaned closer. “ _Yes?_ ” you murmured in said tongue.

 

Hanzo bit his lip before continuing. His expression had softened up more. “ _What we talked about… this morning_ ,” he mentioned.

 

Hopefully the teammates were not looking at your face right now: your cheeks were most likely turning scarlet. “ _What about it_?”

 

The archer’s voice had slowed to keep it from cracking. “ _Would you like to try it out tonight_?”

 

You briefly peeked over at the others. Everyone was either too busy cooking hot dogs or listening to Junkrat’s rambling to notice any of your facial expressions. For this, you felt relieved. Speaking in Japanese was doing you no good right now; anyone could probably tell what you were talking about just from staring at you. Usually, you two were quite good at controlling your expressions, but this time, the topic (oh, dear god, couldn’t he wait until after the campfire to bring this up?) was already making you feel too wound-up.

 

Still, the very mention of it made you feel thrilled.

 

~ooo~

 

It was almost midnight when the rest of the team had gone to sleep. You didn’t want them around at the moment, but quite frankly, it was too bad they had chosen to go to bed right now. Unlike you, they were missing out on such an elegant sight—a bright full moon that was no longer shrouded by the clouds from earlier, glowing softly in the sky amongst the lush trees. And what a perfect time to have such a scene, too. As cliché as it was, no moment like this was ever truly complete without a beautiful background.

 

Hanzo hadn’t said very much to you as you walked side-by-side on the rubble path. His silence, however, didn’t confuse you as much as the bow and quiver that were still on his person. Did he really have to bring them tonight? You two were on your way to the nearby dojo, but training was certainly not the activity you were planning to do there.

 

The dojo looked rather simple, both on the inside and outside, besides a couple of wall scrolls and weapons displayed here and there. It was large, though, and profoundly more than enough space for two people to duel in.

 

Let alone other things…. Was it honestly necessary for you to be doing this in _here_?

 

Hanzo didn’t bother to turn on the lights. After he quietly slid the door shut behind him, he instantly grasped you by the shoulders and turned you around to face him. He neared his chest up against yours, gazing down softly at your face, until his hands traveled to your waist to help guide you backwards. Enchanted by perfectly shaped amber eyes, you stared into his face with a soft blush and made your body yield to the force. Before you knew it, your back met the large wooden pillar behind you, and just like inertia, the marksman continued moving forward until he was pressed firmly against you. At the same time, his forehead met yours, nose tip brushing up against your face. The normal black strand of hair falling from his forehead had dangled in front of your faces and tickled your cheek gently. Comforted, warmed and enticed by how he felt against you, you allowed your sensuality to drive you from this point. Consequently, you obeyed your sudden instinct to close your eyes.

 

And the next two minutes were spent on a deep, sweet kiss up against the pillar. From time to time did you have to find room in between kisses to suck in a breath of air, only to just barely inhale anything other than the hot rush of Hanzo’s breath. Breathing became even tougher once he propped your leg up against his waist and dug his lower torso into yours. The following slow grind of his pelvis practically forced out any air you managed to gasp up. You could have pulled away for just a moment, but you decided not to. Not until you had grown weary of everything—the taste, the softness, the movements. Even if it meant kissing him for another hour…

 

But it ended, long before that point was ever reached. He pulled away, and you were allowed to have oxygen again. Heavy gazes returned at once. Quickly, you scanned his face until your eyes adjusted to the darkness well enough to read him. Your mouth twitched as you prepared to say something to him, but Hanzo caught this right away and pressed two fingers to your lips before they could open. “For quite some time,” he whispered, “I have fantasized about doing _this_ with you.”

 

Obviously, he was referring to what you were about to do. He came up with this idea not recently, but _way_ before you knew? Once his fingers trailed down to your chin, you took your chance to speak. “For how long?” you mouthed in surprise.

 

Hanzo’s face was turning redder than it already was. “You… really wish to know?”

 

You nodded.

 

There was a brief silence, as if he was somehow embarrassed of the answer. Finally, he opened his mouth. “B-before we… started dating…”

 

You felt like you were just placed in an oven. You knew he had been attracted to you for a long time, even back in the days when you were close friends. Yet, for a man with so much self-discipline, it was a shock that he let his thoughts about a comrade wander to that degree.

 

Deep in his mind _, Hanzo Shimada was having feverish, creative, erotic fantasies about you and him_.

 

It sounded freaking crazy…

 

It sounded freaking _hot_ …

 

Right now, there was little to no difference between what you were daydreaming about and what Hanzo was doing to you. He gripped your clothing and undid every button, zipper, tie and clip that he could find.  Once finished, he peeled and tugged all the fabric off you. While this went on, he continued adorning you with his kisses, those precious diamonds of love for you to wear. Sometimes they were on the lips, other times on the neck or shoulders, and occasionally—if he was bold—on the breasts. And undoubtedly, you were grateful for every single time Hanzo’s flawless mouth venerated you, both through words and through actions, these kisses included.

 

Once he had you as bare as the day you were born, you reached around him towards the knot of his belt. Just before you could touch the blue fabric, Hanzo reached around and snatched your hand. Startled, you let out a small gasp, looking straight up into his face. He did not look aggressive, even though he was staring down at you intently. _Not yet_ , his gaze somehow commanded you, making your brow twitch with curiosity. He would have to undress at some point, so why wouldn’t he do it now?

 

“Go stand in the center,” he directed softly. Hesitantly, he released you, then motioned with his head to the spot in the middle of the dojo.

 

_Here it goes…_

 

Without a sound, you sauntered outward into the wide-open space. When you got to your position, you rotated yourself to face Hanzo, who was still standing where he was, watching you with arms crossed. From afar, he continued to caress you, this time with the skim of his gaze over your nude figure, rather than with physical strokes. His face and the anticipation were making your heart throb harder than what you could handle, forcing you to slowly sit down on the floor so that your weakening knees didn’t give out beneath you. The floor felt nice and cool against your currently sweltering bare skin, which calmed you down just a little bit.

 

Your eyes were glued to Hanzo. He had just broken his gaze while slipping his bow off his torso. You thought he was about to set it down, until you saw him reach back and slowly draw out an arrow. Your eyes widened at the sharp, metallic tip. Its shimmer in the moonlight almost made you panic.

 

_So, that’s why he needed those…_

 

Did he know what he was doing? Hanzo would never hurt you, let alone put you at risk of anything. Yet, for a second, you were paranoid. What if things went totally wrong? Should he fail, then you would be impaled (in the bad kind of way, that is).

 

While you sat there worrying, the archer was drawing his bow, the weapon creaking as he aimed in your general direction. He paused, though, when he picked up on your uncertainty. When your eyes met his again, he shot you a serious but assuring look. Clearly, he trusted in all his years of skill. If he couldn’t do this, he wouldn’t be. Regardless, he wanted your “okay” before his fingers released the string.

 

You bit your lip.

 

You nodded to him.

 

_Hanzo, you and your wild fantasies…_

 

“ _Ryū wa anata o yūwaku shimasou_!”

 

Your eyes caught the flash of electric blue. You chickened out. Your eyes shut tight, and you looked away.

 

No arrows through your chest… _Thank God_.

 

Gradually, you opened an eye, only for your sight to be skewed by a bluish glow through the atmosphere. To see more clearly, both eyes opened normally, and you untwisted your spine to face in front of you again.

 

And snarled up on the floor before you and your lover were those infamously powerful dragons. It was very unusual not to see them roaring or pouncing on someone. If it weren’t for those frightening, glowing white eyes and those viciously wrinkled noses, they would’ve appeared rather peaceful in this moment. In fact, you wouldn’t even have minded approaching them and petting them.

 

These dragons didn’t want to be treated like puppies anyways. This was evident from the way they glared in your direction and snaked towards you.

 

Your eyes felt like they were bulging out of your head. Your heart skipped a beat. Your breath stopped. With the giant ghostly monsters nearing you, you wouldn’t be surprised if your hair was white when this was all over. You started to fall backward, but before your back could hit the floor, your skin smacked against something firm yet soft, bumpy and rubbery in texture. You supported your body with your elbows against the unusual surface while your hands frantically searched the surface to get a better feel. It was rather warm to the touch. Perhaps scaly, too.

 

The surface started to bend around you and slide against your skin, sending a chill down your body. Another bit of it began to scoop beneath your knees and prop up your legs until your body was completely surrounded like you were sitting in a huge raft. Besides the sides of the dragons’ heads peeking over, you saw nothing beyond the walls of their long, blue, tubular bodies trapping you in, cradling your whole being. As the dragons slipped in further beneath you, your body was lifted a little off the floor, just enough to see over them and view Hanzo. The marksman was setting his bow down off to the side, along with his quiver. Not once had he looked away from you or his dragons, but he neither looked fearful nor shocked. He was, after all, the man who controlled those beasts, so what did you two have to fear? He only sat down, though, and kept watching you from afar. Nothing more.

 

Or so it appeared.

 

One of the dragons snaked up over the side of the other and crawled over the “nest” you laid in. Its underside had brushed along your midsection while it traveled over you, its skin feeling warm, watery and delicate. The feeling surprised you, and—believe it or not—it actually felt pleasant against your stomach. In response, your legs naturally retracted, and a light blush formed on your face.

 

Suddenly, the dragons’ bodies were shifting beneath you. The one dragon uncoiled and ceased holding your body, setting your bottom back down on the floor. That was when the other dragon’s body snaked in between you and the other and circled around. This time, however, it closed in around you in a tighter fashion. Next thing you witnessed was your torso and arms being constricted as if you had been captured in the coils of a giant snake. Thankfully, though, you weren’t being bound dangerously hard, only enough to make you feel just a little pressure and restrict your movements. You looked down in shock, mouth open and taking deep breaths as you watched the dragon’s body twitching, riveting and squirming around you, heating and caressing your body like a bizarre blue sun. Occasionally, the dragon would twitch and grip your body, squeezing faint whines and groans out of you. Nevertheless, you could not deny that the tightness, hotness, and smoothness teased your senses. In fact, it was making you feel a little bit…

 

Cheeks red again, you looked back up at your man. He was still staring, of course, but you couldn’t help but notice a change in the glimmer of his eyes. With that, you began to notice subtle little cues matching the strange new look. Seeping through his seriousness, relaxing his lips, making his eyelids a little heavier was that beloved sense of pleasure.

 

And there _you_ were—a naked girl, ensnared by two dragons while their big, dark, handsome master watched you…

 

_Wanting you…_

_Craving you…_

_Pleasing you…_

_His... All his tonight…_

 

But he was still sitting there, doing nothing but controlling the dragons while giving you bedroom eyes.

 

Snapping out of your sensual trance, you started to feel annoyed. Was he seriously just going to sit there, letting his dragons do all the work? Dammit, he better not have been intending on it. The dragons may have been part of the foreplay, but they weren’t your mates. You needed that man tonight. Better yet, you needed him _this instant_. Right here with you. And quite honestly, you could care less if the dragons were involved. Just so long as he was, you would be satisfied.

 

With an idea popping into your head, you knew how to make that happen.

 

The dragons had continued to snake around you, scales tickling everything, especially sensitive upon your butt and breasts. However, you ignored them, returning Hanzo’s stare and imitating his expression.

 

The marksman shifted in his spot, then narrowed his eyes on what you were doing next. Innocently, you tilted your head to the side slowly. “Loosen me a little,” you murmured.

 

He nodded his head, and the dragons obeyed the command. You felt the pressure gradually decrease, the scaly flesh peeling off you, leaving behind beads of sweat over your skin. You managed to wriggle your arms out from the restraint and lift them up to shoulder level, then rested them upon the dragon’s trunk in front of you.

 

For the next moment or two, you lover watched you as you rested the side of your head on the trunk. Your hands were exploring the dragon flesh ever so delicately, smoothing your fingertips over the scales in strokes like you were admiring a pet. Hanzo was unmistakably approving of how you handled his dragon, causing him to open his eyes up a little more and lean forward, all to get a better glimpse of your actions.

 

The dragons were now uncoiling and relaxing their bodies across the dojo floor. With the trunk uncoiling from you and straightening itself out in propulsive waves, you took the chance to extend your arms along the length in order to give longer strokes to the beast’s body. You kept your head resting up against it, even though your eyes were still set on the man. Your eyelids then fluttered twice, looking serene and, to an extent, flirtatious towards him. The only time you ever cut off the gaze was when you closed your eyes, giving the dragon skin a light kiss at the same time.

 

Hanzo responded immediately to the gesture. He blinked twice. His thick brows twitched.

 

You propped your leg up onto the beast, pulling yourself all the way up onto the dragon’s trunk. Laying down on your stomach, you resumed petting the creature in long, circular strokes. All while your man got a nice view of the side of your physique, with every curve exaggerated by the dragons’ azure glow beaming just behind you. Not to mention, the way you arched your back slightly and the way you straddled the dragon’s back appeared reasonably suggestive.

 

The warrior’s eyes had become fairly enlarged, and his jaw faintly dropped open. He was not anticipating such moves out of you. Still, you captivated his attention and irked him to keep watching, just to see whatever you would do next.

 

And sweet lord, would you put on quite the show for him. Letting out a passionate sigh, you flipped over onto your back. You propped your legs up and extended them in front of you, smoothly rubbing your feet along the dragon’s back. While your legs were busy, you let your hands rub the sides of the dragon in circles before bringing them up to your body.

 

He was starting to shift in a way you had never seen before. You could have sworn his orbs were on the way to popping out of his head. Better yet, you were probably going to have to call an ambulance if you made him breath any louder than he already was, if not a mini heart attack. He exhaled your name in a trembling whisper, rubbing his shoulder in a desperate attempt to calm himself. Perhaps to prevent the shattering of that one quality he always held fast to. Even while in the presence of the beautiful girl he picked to be his mate…

 

A.K.A. the girl who was now on top of his dragon, running her hands along her breasts.

 

Then you let one hand slide down below your stomach and…

 

“N-no…. Do _not_ do that!”

 

You paused your hand just before you could perform the deed. Your brows furrowed. “And why not?” you asked faintly, but somewhat smartly.

 

He got up to his feet. Then, you heard it. That _shift_ in his throat. Like a man turned into a beast, his voice dipped into the lowest, hungriest, most sensual growl you ever listened to. “Because that is _my_ job,” he declared, “to make you come.”

 

_Holy shit. It worked._

 

In a flash, Hanzo’s upper attire had already hit the floor. He didn’t hesitate either when he pulled off his metallic boots and kicked them off to the side. The last to go were his pants, which he passionately ripped open and pulled all the way down to his ankles, then stepped out of.

 

Sure enough, you were amazed at how erect he already was.

 

Hanzo Shimada—complete with a serious, lustful glare—began to tread towards you and the dragons. You instantly sat up and watched him. Just then did you receive a perfect, full front view of Hanzo: like always, he looked like a gorgeous, breathtaking dragon god from straight out of a picture. Feverish to get inside you, he grabbed his fabulously thick manhood and stroked it with his thumb, releasing it with one last stroke once he finally reached you.

 

He sat down on the dragon’s back, right next to you. Reaching over to you, he grabbed you by your waist and your leg and dragged you near onto his lap. You softly gasped when your nude chest slapped against his, startled by the rock-hard firmness of his massive pectorals compared to your soft, plump breasts. His arms wrapped around your waist and pressed you up even tighter against him, whereas all you could do was stare up into his eyes passionately while he exchanged the same stare. At last, once he gripped you by the thigh, he leaned his face forward and engulfed your lips in a searing kiss.

 

You groaned and shut your eyes, then worked your lips against his. It looked and felt exactly like a love scene straight out of a movie. Although it was brand new for you and Hanzo to try something this wild in your intimate lives, the moment had the same effect on you as always. You still felt just as adored, safe, affectionate, and beautiful, right here in your most sacred time with the one you loved. And on his end, he was undoubtedly feeling as incredible as you did (you always tried to make him feel that way, at least).

 

The best had only begun. The dragons started shifting around again, returning to the nest position they were in before. At the same time, Hanzo scooped up your body and pulled you into the center of the cluster with him. He pressed your back up against the side of one of the beasts, kissing you a few more times, still embracing you possessively. In sheer approval, your hands wandered over his shoulders and arms.

 

After a few more kisses, the bowman pulled his mouth away. His hands had made their way to your thighs to spread them apart and position himself in between them. Finally, he shot you a look and kept himself as still as stone until he received your permission.

 

You bit your lip, and you nodded.

 

With that, he pulled on your thighs and entered you roughly.

 

“H-ha!” You threw your head back and winced. Without thinking, you gripped the yellow ribbon in his hair. You tugged down on it, causing you to undo the knot and pull the accessory right out of his hair. The ribbon remained in your hand, draped around your arm and tangled up in between your fingers. Subsequently, Hanzo’s silken ebony hair had cascaded down against his neck. A few extra hairs fell in front of his eyes, but he paid no attention to it. The male only kept his focus on you while he began making love to you at a steady pace. In turn, you sat there and took it while you unleashed deep breaths and moans. You centered your mind on every sensation he created within your insides—the fullness, the heat, the pulsations, the movement.

 

Shockingly, Hanzo’s dragons did not behave nervously from the activity going on within their cluster. In fact, they seemed to pay almost no attention to it at all. In all certainty, these creatures hardly ever encountered humans to begin with, unless they were Hanzo’s enemies (even so, the marksman only ever used his dragons as his last resort in battle). So, it wasn’t every day that the dragons were made to lay around while having two human beings fucking right against them.

 

Come to think of it, Hanzo’s ancestors would probably be rolling in their graves if they saw this right now…

 

The male had pulled out to switch positions with you. He turned you around and forced you onto your stomach over the back of one of the dragons. He grabbed you by the hips and plunged himself into you from behind, then resumed doing you at a faster pace. The feeling of your breasts hitting against the dragon skin made your nipples harden slightly and even made you let out an obscene whimper. Hanzo replied to your noise by groaning out your name. He squeezed your hips harder while smashing his hips against yours with vigor.

 

For the next five minutes or so, you two stayed grinding together in that position. Intermittently would you change positions either on top of or around the glowing blue beasts. Despite the positions, Hanzo fucked you right, driving you closer and closer to fulfilling your pleasure. Just before the climax, one of the dragons coiled up and tightened around your bodies, pulling you together so that you rubbed up against one another as he humped you the hardest he possibly could. You were absolutely enamored by this move: getting restrained, mashed up against your lover in a hot, sweating, pornographic mess. As an expression of your lust, you shut your eyes and indulged in the feeling during which you moaned Hanzo’s name aloud like no one was listening.

 

He breathed against your neck, huffing, puffing, grunting hard. “G-going to come,” he stammered below his breath.

 

You inhaled passionately. “Hanzo,” you exhaled. “ _Please_ …”

 

The dragon’s body closed in tighter, and he kicked his thrusts into high gear.

 

Closer.

 

Closer.

 

_Closer_.

 

Now, you were starting to enter your climax. Your mind had gone blank. You clung to him, unleashing the most erotic outcry.

 

At the same time, Hanzo held you close. He emitted a guttural growl just before the two of you orgasmed together.

 

And although your consciousness was blurry, you would never forget what it felt like when he finally came into you at that last second.

 

You never, ever did.

 

~ooo~

 

It was approximately sunrise when you made your way down into the kitchen. The only other person up at this hour was Lúcio, who was already in there making some omelets when you entered. Gladly, he had served a fresh one to you, along with some coffee and a slice of toast. Currently, he was eating his omelet and sitting down with you at the small kitchen table, chatting with you casually about random things, including plans for your next battle, his most recent concert in Paris last week, and even Junkrat’s bizarre new dislike of old Western films (bad experiences with McCree were perhaps to blame for that one).

 

Soon, the conversation had lead you two to talk about cat videos. You and the D.J. were watching a couple of your favorites on your smartphone, laughing together at all the cute felines of all shapes and sizes doing hysterical things. Right now, you two giggled as you showed him a video of a cat swatting at a whack-a-mole type of game that his owner made out of a cart board box, using his finger as the “mole.”

 

It wasn’t long before you suddenly heard a third chuckle coming from right behind you two.

 

You and Lúcio looked behind you. Standing there in some grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt was Hanzo, crossing his arms and grinning at the sight of the cat video.

 

“O-oh hey, morning, dude,” said Lúcio, now smirking cheerfully at the archer. In the D.J.’s eyes and smile was a peculiar hint of surprise.

 

“Good morning, you two,” replied Hanzo, still smiling softly and giving you an even brighter smile once he saw you.

 

You blushed a little and smiled back at him. “Hey. I was just showing him some funny videos,” you told him.

 

“Yes, I see,” Hanzo responded. “That one looks very hilarious.”

 

Lúcio chuckled and raised a brow. “Say, Hanz, I thought you didn’t like cat videos.”

 

The man frowned and blinked twice. He seemed rather surprised as well. “Oh… Well… Maybe that’s because I never… found them funny?” He scratched the back of his head. “But… I suppose this one just happened to be a very good one is all.”

 

“Meh..” The Brazilian shrugged his shoulders. “Anyways, want me to make you some breakfast?”

 

“Hmmh… Not right now,” said Hanzo. “I will be going down to train in a few minutes. Best I wait until after.”

 

“I’ll actually be training in a few minutes as well,” you commented, “once I finish my food.”

 

Hanzo’s smile returned to his lips. “Very well. Then I’ll leave you to eat.” He swooped his head down and gave you a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. “I will see you there, [Y/N].”

 

A warm, glowing expression stayed on your face, even seconds after Hanzo had left the kitchen.

 

“Eh, yo, [Y/N]…”

 

“Hm?” You looked at Lúcio.

 

The D.J. wore the same look of surprise on his face, along with a quirked brow and a foxlike grin. “Ya boy is acting a little…. _different_ this morning.”

 

You frowned. Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, for once, he looks like he’s… in a really good mood.”

 

“Oh?...”

 

“Yeah… It’s a little weird for him to be smiling that much, but… honestly, I kinda dig that.” Lúcio took another bite of his omelet. “I wish he was like that more often, ya know?”

 

Without the man noticing, your countenance was riddled with satisfaction, with a sprinkle of mischief.

 

_You’re welcome, Lúcio._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you guys go, I just want to make one last note, just so the dumbest readers out there don't get eaten alive...
> 
> I STRONGLY advise against performing any of the activities done in this chapter, chiefly the inappropriate use of giant Japanese dragons. For that matter, and for the safety of readers, I highly advise against using ANY reptile for any sexual activity whatsoever.
> 
> Yes, fans out in Indonesia, that includes you. Leave the komodo dragons alone, please.
> 
> Thank you.


	4. Refreshment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Again, I can't say this enough: thank you for all the support. This fanfic just hit over 300 likes, and I'm shocked that it's gotten this big.
> 
> I really meant to post this chapter last week, but life has gotten busy, so I wasn't able to get as much done last week as I hoped. But whatever. Here it is, the final product, fresh from the mental gutter that is my imagination.

It was that time again. The battlefield was a vampire, beckoning for the blood of mercenaries. It always had, and only heaven knew how much longer it would. That is, if it would ever come to an end.

 

This time around, the battlefield called out from the grand city of Lijiang. Word had gotten around about the astounding accomplishments of your team. That word had apparently traveled far enough to reach the ears of the more affluent clientele. Subsequently, one of the more popular PMCs had practically handed out jobs to all six of you like it was no huge deal. Upon acceptance of the offer, you were already assigned a vital mission to prevent the capture of Lijiang tower by a handful of enemies. In the instance that you succeeded, you and your comrades would be handsomely rewarded.

 

Frankly, as pretty as the pay was getting, it wasn’t your favorite part of this lifestyle. Spending your days alongside the same five comrades had brought you to fall in love with the teamwork aspect more than anything else. The bonds that you formed over the past year had gotten so strong that they overflowed from the battlefield into your everyday life. In respect to their personalities, backgrounds, abilities and goals, your teammates had their differences. But at the end of the day, all of you were no different from a regular group of friends.

 

The friendships were not to be taken for granted, though. You knew that your team was only lucky to have such good chemistry. Maybe it was all due to each member’s social gifts? Tracer, the most cheerful teammate and your closest friend since the days you served Overwatch, was always fun to be around. Lúcio acted as the life of the team and lifted your spirits even on your darkest days. Junkrat, although mischievous and psychotic, was actually a decent fellow to talk to and would even crack a good joke from time to time. Even Roadhog—perhaps the most aggressive one of them all—had eventually developed a soft side for the group, occasionally expressing his fondness through subtle actions.

 

And Hanzo…

 

Well, to be brief, the others generally viewed him as the serious, quiet one.

 

You knew him _much_ better than they did, however. You could see that Hanzo’s social gifts were just endless.

 

After all, why else would you have been dating him for almost a year now?

 

~ooo~

 

By coincidence, Hanzo had crossed paths with his brother Genji on the first night in Lijiang. The younger Shimada was traveling to Hanamura on his own personal business but was staying in China until evening the next day. To your relief, neither of the men had gone at each other’s throats upon meeting. Although the air between them was tense at first, they grew calmer by the minute as they spoke to one another. Before that night ended, Genji had even offered to visit Hanzo the next morning before departing Lijiang, which the elder one had quickly accepted. It looked astonishing at first—you were aware that your lover’s perspective of his past had clashed tremendously with his sibling’s, a contrast that most often lead to heated arguments whenever someone would mention the topic. Yet, after thinking about it, it was not only reasonable for Hanzo to accept but also necessary. Not for self-healing, though. He wasn’t ready for it. Rather, he would take advantage of the time to soothe the loneliness for his kin.

 

That morning, when Genji appeared at sunrise, loneliness for kin was already the _least_ of Hanzo Shimada’s worries.

 

The two began the morning by training together next to a nearby pond. The younger brother had been practicing leisurely with his sword, whereas the older man was meditating quietly upon a boulder beside a tree. At one point, the cyborg had taken a brief break to stand by the water and watch a group of ducks glide quietly across the pond without care. Once the ducks disappeared behind a bush, however, he looked behind him. From beneath his metal mask did his eyes briefly skim over his brother.

 

Before he could turn away, Hanzo had already sparked Genji’s attention. The young cyborg looked at his brother more closely. He could not recall the last time he had ever seen him struggle to focus during meditation. In fact, he knew his sibling to be one of the best at coping with negative feelings, stress being amongst them. This time, however, it was quite obvious that Hanzo was trying a bit harder than usual. Genji could see it in his face. A wrinkle appeared on his forehead, his black brows furrowed, and his lips arched by just a centimeter as if they were on the verge of transforming into a frustrated snarl. Additionally, the muscles in his neck and shoulders had briefly twitched.

 

Genji kept staring at his brother. He turned the rest of his metallic body around, then took a few quiet steps towards Hanzo. The cyborg didn’t want to be nosey, yet curiosity was driving him near. What troubles could possibly have the raging power to break into his brother’s peaceful mind?

 

The elder one was sharper than he anticipated. He could sense his brother nearing. He could somehow feel the green, luminescent stare of the helmet aimed at his entire being, although feet away from him. “Is something the matter, Genji?” he questioned in a low voice.

 

The younger one moved no closer. “I should be asking you the same,” he responded.

 

Appearing slightly annoyed, Hanzo opened his eyes halfway. He did not bother to turn his sight to his brother, nor did he say anything. Yes, it was the marksman’s way of masking things, fooling people into thinking there was nothing running through his mind.

 

That tactic wouldn’t work on Genji. He knew Hanzo all too well. His reaction alone was an automatic giveaway that something was, in fact, bothering him. The young man walked further up the hill before taking a seat on the grass. “Care to discuss?” he offered calmly.

 

Hanzo said nothing. He remained sitting still, shutting his eyes again, his lips breaking into a minor scowl for a split second.

 

He wasn’t going to ignore his brother for much longer. Genji wouldn’t quit. “Talking may clear your mind, you know,” stated the rogue. “As much as you want to, you cannot suppress things that are too large to be stuffed away into your head. It will come out in some way, shape or form.” Taking a breath, he folded his legs and rested his hands on his knees. “Best release it in the healthiest one.”

 

Hanzo opened his eyes again. He glanced down at Genji and sighed. “There are many things so troublesome that one cannot hold in,” he responded, “but this should not be one of them. In fact, it should not be bothering me at all. If anything, I should view it as a punishment for poor preparation.”

 

Genji tilted his head. “Oh? It shouldn’t?” he asked curiously. He lifted a palm and gestured at Hanzo. “But it does. You cannot deny that.”

 

Hanzo bit his lip. His brother had a point. He couldn’t express his emotions freely to just anyone, though. Could he trust his brother with them? He was no doctor or psychologist. On the other hand, though, he always gave away great advice about particularly personal topics, so why not discuss _this_ predicament?

 

With that in mind, he cracked. His expression softened, and this time, Hanzo’s brows formed to match his current anxiety. “Promise me you will not tell?” he sighed.

 

Genji gave an assuring nod. “Anything you tell me will _always_ stay between us, brother.”

 

The marksman relaxed his spine and leaned forward. While talking to his sibling, his voice was kept lowered. “My one-year anniversary with [Y/N] is tomorrow.”

 

The cyborg’s body language perked up. “Oh, how wonderful,” he admired softly. “Congratulations. But… why does that bother you?”

 

“Well, I….” Hanzo shifted into embarrassment. He struggled to get the words out of himself, but he mustered enough courage to say it. “I have not planned _anything_ for her yet… Nor have I gotten her a gift or anything…”

 

Genji was puzzled. “Why do you worry so much about it?” he questioned. “No worry. You still have time. Planning a celebration is often quite simple. Grab her a gift and perhaps go out for a romantic dinner tomorrow.” He ended his statement cheerfully, anticipating Hanzo’s problem to be solved right then and there.

 

But no. Instead, the marksman shook his head. “You do not understand,” he groaned.

 

Genji became confused again. “Then explain, please.”

 

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, my finances have become limited,” continued Hanzo. “I cannot afford to give [Y/N] as much as I would like to tomorrow. Worst yet, I hear of men doing absolutely extravagant things for their girlfriends on their anniversaries, all of which are beyond my budget.”

 

“I see,” said Genji.

 

“My love… She is a perfect one….” Hanzo’s eyes turned down a little lower. “For that, she deserved nothing but _perfection_ … Tomorrow, I refuse to give her anything less. But not only do I fear giving her less than the best, I also fear that she will be… disappointed.”

 

Genji took a few seconds of silence to analyze the problem. “That is very frustrating indeed, brother,” he replied.

 

After that, the silence was prolonged. During that length of time, Hanzo merely left his sorrowful gaze aiming at the grass. He spent the moment drowning himself in every bit of frustration that seeped out of him.

 

There was, however, one good thing about moments like this—that these were the parts when a light bulb would go off in Genji’s head.

 

“Brother…”

 

Hanzo looked up. “Yes?”

 

“There _are_ ways to impress a girl without wealth….”

 

Hanzo’s brow twitched. “Then tell me, Genji,” he inquiried, “Do you have any suggestions?”

 

“There is one that I can think of,” replied the younger. “If I dare suggest it.”

 

The archer transitioned from dread into curiosity. His black brow raised a bit higher.

 

“It certainly works. I should know. It was…. umm….” Genji’s warped voice was crackling. “One of my favorite activities… back in the day whenever I wanted to….” He reached behind him and rubbed the back of his helmet. “Whenever I was… dating a woman,” he ended.

 

The elder brother’s eyes narrowed. “Alright then,” he murmured. “I trust you, brother. Ever since I started going with [Y/N], you have taught me everything about love and women. So far, your advice has proven quite true. I doubt that you will disappoint me this time.”

 

Genji placed his hand back down in his lap.

 

Hanzo sat up straight. His face returned to straight seriousness.

 

“Then, shall we begin your next lesson, Hanzo?”

 

“Enlighten me.”

 

~ooo~

 

A day had gone by. The moon and stars took over the skies until the vibrant Chinese sun rose above the horizon, announcing the day you had been looking forward to. The one-year mark had come at last.

 

You remembered it so vividly. It felt like it happened an hour ago. You could still remember sitting on that rooftop in the dead of night, right beside your friend Hanzo. Your time together went the same as all other nights on that same rooftop: gazing at the stars, talking about goals and dreams, Hanzo telling you interesting stories, good jokes cracked here and there, and at last, depending on the case, letting out things that rushed through your minds.

 

The last part of those nights was a necessity, because it helped both of you go to sleep at night. A year ago, Hanzo had taken advantage of that. In his case, who wouldn’t? You two were putting your lives on the line on a weekly basis, so God only knew if he would ever have that same opportunity again. You remembered that look he gave you just before he said anything, his stern eyes stained by feelings and fear. You remembered how his low, powerful voice trembled like an earthquake, how he struggled to find the right words but forced himself to speak anyways.

 

Oh, but that night, Hanzo found the perfect words. Words that you dreamed of hearing for so long that you already had the perfect answer for him.

 

And now, here you were, exactly a year later and still harvesting the fruit that those words bore.

 

Hanzo told you he had a surprise tonight. First, he decided to take you out on walk through the Lijiang public gardens, where the two of you could enjoy each other’s company. You were, indeed, quite fascinated at the elegant scenery, namely the native trees and architecture, so you couldn’t argue with it. But of course, you never needed much to be satisfied on a date. No matter what you did tonight, nothing could ever be as wonderful as simply being with your marksman.

 

After a while of walking and chatting, you headed back to the hotel with him. The rest of your team was out to see a film and wouldn’t be back until midnight, so until then, you would have the entire hotel suite to yourselves. What a relief. At last, you and your significant other would get to have some privacy for the first time in almost a week. And what better time for that than while getting your anniversary surprise? Well,… whatever _that_ would entail…

 

Hanzo slipped his key card into the card reader. Once the lock flashed from red to green, he opened the door slowly and motioned for you to enter first. You thanked him and then proceeded into the room.

 

You walked into the main room of your suite and paused. Then, you looked around. None of the main lights were on; instead, there were two smaller lamps turned on, accompanied by the flickering light of a few lit-up candles in various spots. Yet, your attention was mostly drawn to the coffee table in front of the couch. On top of it sat nothing but a single white porcelain flask, small but pretty. From the tiny drop of liquid glittering on the edge of its opening, you figured that the flask contained a drink of some kind, most likely sake.

 

No doubt, whatever it is that Hanzo had planned, you would be grateful for, and a night in while having a drink together seemed rather lovely. Yet, you were slightly confused. Your man typically went above and beyond when it came to dates, but this didn’t exactly match that level of creativity. Hanzo brought you here just to have a drink with him? Perhaps there was much more to this…

 

From behind, Hanzo rested his hand on your shoulder. “Are you thirsty?” he asked softly. “I know how much you enjoy sake, just as much as I do. So, I found a special kind for us to share.”

 

“Oh… Hanzo.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. When you turned around, you cracked a gentle smile. “You really shouldn’t have…”

 

Looking at you tenderly, the marksman gently cupped his hands around both of your shoulders and ushered you over to the sofa. You walked over with him and took a seat in front of the coffee table, scooting over just enough for him to sit down beside you. Strangely, he did not take the spot beside you but rather kept standing. He then walked over to a set of candles when he noticed that one of them had gone out, proceeding to light it again. While he worked on this, you took a moment to observe the flask sitting in front of you, admiring the fancy blue pictures of peacocks and flowers etched into the shiny white porcelain.

 

That was when you noticed…

 

“Ummm, Hanzo..”

 

Hanzo had finished re-lighting the candle and had turned around the second he heard you. His stern, dark eyes had changed. This time, he looked relaxed. “Yes, [Y/N]?”

 

You pointed at the table. “If we’re going to have sake,” you questioned, “then where are the cups?”

 

Oddly, the archer gave you a long, silent pause.

 

You somewhat regretted asking that question out loud. Was he staring at you because he just realized that cups were missing? Maybe you had slightly embarrassed him. He didn’t look embarrassed at all, though. If anything, his serene gaze appeared to be intensifying. Still, if this was an accident, you didn’t want it to seem like a huge deal. “It’s alright,” you told him. “Why don’t I go grab some cups for—“

 

“We do not need them,” he interrupted.

 

You were on the verge of standing up, but the low smoothness of his voice had halted you. You stared back at him and blinked twice. “But…. how will we drink it?”

 

Hanzo didn’t give you a verbal answer. Not a sound. To your wonder, he remained standing there.

 

From that point did things get creative.

 

Hanzo-level creative.

 

Your eyes grew. Your pupils dilated. Your heart skipped a beat. “Whooooah, Ha-Ha-Hanzo?...” You were absolutely caught off guard when you witnessed Hanzo suddenly pulling his shirt up over his head. The first to abruptly pop into your sight were rock-hard abdominals, followed by pecs of equal muscularity and thickness. Briefly, your sight had shot at the shirt, now tossed aside onto the floor beside the coffee table. When you looked back up, you had been turned into a deer in the headlights by the very sight of a fantastic, shirtless, handsome warrior. Hot damn was it a gorgeous surprise, but what the hell was going on?

 

Not taking his eyes off you, the archer took slow broad steps around the coffee table over to the spot beside you on the couch. The very second he sat down was when his massive arms scooped beneath your legs and around your waist, pulling you effortlessly onto his lap. Consequently, you had wound up smacking up against sun-kissed skin, passionately embraced by sturdy limbs with your face close to your lover’s. Hanzo had aroused and moved you so abruptly that your consciousness was struggling to catch up. Your senses, on the other hand, had not lost track—it was very obvious from the already-forming goosebumps on your skin, the limpness of your legs, and the sweat on your palms. And it was _beyond_ obvious from the dropping of your lower lip beneath the warm breath upon your face, accompanied by the blush of your cheeks under the enticing gaze shot at you like Cupid’s arrows.

 

“Again, my love,” he mouthed. “Are you thirsty?”

 

_Thirsty? Did he mean thirsty for the sake? Or thirsty as in like…_

 

Whatever he meant, the answer was a yes. You expressed your approval by nodding silently.

 

One problem remained, however. Your previous question wasn’t answered. What would you two do without cups for the sake? Just drink straight out of the bottle?

 

One arm slipped away from you as Hanzo reached forward for the white flask. He grabbed it and sat back, holding the flask between the two of you. Meanwhile, you watched him curiously, eager for an answer.

 

Nevertheless, once Hanzo finally did what he was planning to do—the little twist that added life to tonight’s sweet surprise—it had all made sense. Your true love had painted an intrigued little smirk and a raised brow onto your face. Oh yes, you saw what he did there (how clever). As you watched, you just couldn’t help but think to yourself, _this_ was a Hanzo-Shimada-level anniversary date.

 

It certainly wouldn’t have been one without that classic sex appeal.

 

Hanzo tipped his head back and relaxed himself so that his nape rested comfortably, and in the depression just above his collarbone and near his neck, he had poured you a generous shot of sake.

 

Damn… Good thing there wasn’t too much sake in that flask. Otherwise, someone would sure as hell be ending up shit-faced.

 

You leaned forward, and _very_ gladly had you accepted the drink. Just as if you were drinking from a regular cup, your lips clamped onto his collarbone. Although you had not even touched the drink yet, the taste of his warm skin alone was appealing. Heaven had blessed your taste buds, though, the split second they came into contact with sake. The drink had a fruity flavor and a bite—perfect in combination with the slurry of heat from the skin and chill from the liquid. Many events were happening in this mixture, but oh, dear… When they clashed together upon your wanting tongue, it was an exotic flavor that could be produced no other way in this world.

 

When you were finished, your tongue sopped up the last droplets of sake in the depression of his skin. You withdrew from him and then grinned approvingly, gracing your bottom lip with a flick of your tongue.

 

The dark-haired man lifted his head and opened his eyes. Attentively, his amber-brown irises fixated on your wetted lips. “Good?” he murmured.

 

You replied by grabbing the bottom of your shirt and lifting upward.

 

His eyebrows twitched, and he hummed. “I will take that as a yes.” Hanzo reached out and assisted you in pulling off your top, then took it from you and dropped it to the floor. Next, he reached around your body and delicately undid the clips on the back of your bra, and once undone, the bra was tossed below on top of your shirt. Now, with you as bare on top as he was, your skin and breasts free to behold, you were swept up and repositioned so that you were laying on your back on the sofa, with your man hovering above you and gawking at your form. “My turn,” he muttered. “I am parched.”

 

Imagining the feeling of Hanzo returning the action, your face overheated instantly. A red-hot flurry of excitement stormed within your chest. Your legs squirmed faintly as you watched Hanzo reach over to the white flask and snatch it up again. The moment he held the flask near you was when you received the cue to tip your head back and remain as still as stone. You closed your eyes, waiting for Hanzo to do his thing.

 

What touched your skin first wasn’t the sake, however. Instead, thick fingers were brushing a strand of hair off your shoulder before scooping under your head and intertwining in your hair. The sensation made a pleasant tingle rush over your scalp, which prompted the rest of you to go utterly limp.

 

Next came the cold above your collarbone. The physical solitude was shortly interrupted by the temperature of the sake. You gasped and flinched, but you tried not to move so much lest you spill the drink. Thankfully after a few seconds did your skin adjust to the cool liquid, and so you were able to remain still again.

 

Until the sweet part came.

 

Your eyes shot open. You quietly moaned in astonishment. Hanzo’s loose strand of hair tickled your neck as wet, pillowy lips greeted your collarbone. His suckling and slurping teased your skin like the wet kisses of a small animal—a little gesture that magnified the tingle and hum in your head times ten. With your nerves completely clueless on how to deal, you squirmed slightly beneath him, but you clung onto his waist to keep yourself somewhat under control. Whatever it took, just so that you didn’t spill his sweet little drink. Still, it was tough when the orgasm in your brain was the only thing you could focus on.

 

But you did well during those ten seconds. Hanzo drank the whole mouthful off you, and not a drop was spilled. Once finished, he planted a brief, flirty nibble on your collarbone before pulling away and releasing a fresh, satiated sigh against the same spot. “Tasty,” he exhaled.

 

You glanced at him and let out a soft, satisfied chuckle. “Damn, Hanzo. How did you ever come up with this?”

 

He lifted up his head and made eye contact with you. “Hmmm...” He bit his lip, as if thinking.

 

Still grinning, you raised a brow.

 

For the first time in a while, he grinned back once he found his answer. “I have my sources.”

 

You giggled again. “Sure you do.”

 

Hanzo chuckled back. Sitting back up, he grabbed the flask off the table again, holding it in front of your face. “Your turn,” he stated.

 

You propped yourself up and took the flask from his hand. “So, do I get to pick the next spot?” you asked curiously.

 

Hanzo pondered for a second, scratching his cheek. “As long as it works,” he said, “then yes, you can pick.”

 

You just couldn’t help it. With this romantic activity, so many ideas were flowing through your head. You were growing hotter with each and every one of them. Sure, it was his surprise for you, his seductive invention, but if he was allowing you to express yourself as well, then why not? Your grin gradually faded, leaving a more serious, passionate gaze. “On your back,” you commanded.

 

Hanzo’s grin disappeared, too. He gazed back at you, then did as you said. Carefully, the archer adjusted himself on the couch so that he rested on his back. The entire time he kept his eyes on you, perhaps awaiting your next instructions or if he was laying the way you wanted him to. Meanwhile, your eyes were not on his. _Much_ below that point, to be exact. You couldn’t help but keep your sight glued to the most prominent six-pack right before you. With the sake in hand, you sat on top of him and allowed your legs to straddle on each side of his waist. Your man folded his arms behind his head and kept watching you, relaxed yet somewhat inquisitive.

 

Your attention was aimed at a spot in the middle of four ab muscles. Hanzo was cut enough that the space could hold a bit of sake, so it seemed. You leaned over, holding the sake bottle just above the spot, then in little delicate bits, you dripped some liquid upon the area. The abs twitched a little from the drops, but Hanzo did an excellent job keeping still. Finally, you placed the flask back on the table, then leering downward at your drink, you gripped your hair out of the way and slowly bent over.

 

You could’ve sworn the next sip tasted better than the last. Maybe it was psychological—just your pleasured mind playing tricks on you. That, or the first sip had already gotten you buzzed, which was rather unlikely (you were a lightweight, but not by _that_ much).

 

Even though he wasn’t drinking it, Hanzo sure as hell didn’t have a problem with it, either. If anything, he was probably just as impressed as you were, judging from the way he sighed and groaned once or twice with every move of your tongue and lips.

 

You sat back up when finished. With a bit of sake remaining on the corner of your mouth, you brought your arm off to wipe it off.

 

Just then did Hanzo grab your wrist and stop your arm. “Don’t,” he grunted.

 

“Hmmh?”

 

The male pulled you down so that the front of your bare torso met his chest. Your face stopped only inches away from his. Aroused but confused, you said not a word to him. Nevertheless, you noticed his eyes honing in on the remaining drop on your mouth. Most notably, his lips were formed in a way that beckoned for it.

 

You took the hint. Shutting your eyes, you offered the last drop to him.

 

He raised his face upward. Lips met. Succulently, he sucked up the drop.

 

That was when he kick-started you. Now, you cared about nothing else, except for what you were _really_ thirsty for tonight. The sake was good and all, but fuck it. Hell, you wouldn’t even care right now if you were eating the best filet mignon in the whole world. It was really your lover that you could never get enough of, let alone those sweet silken lips.

 

You shivered. You blushed. You groaned sweetly.

 

Surely, he must have known. Your delicate sounds had screamed it out loud to him.

 

But he wasn’t done with you yet. He had another trick to turn you on. Hanzo pulled away, his lips marked with a soft grin. Still looking passionately at your face, he sat himself up along with you. At the same time, he reached for the sake flask, and turning his head to the side for just a moment, he brought the flask to his lips, tipping it upward and taking a hearty mouthful. You watched him quietly while your hands remained planted on his chest. Damn, was he really that parched right now? He wasn’t taking the liquor in so cautiously, either.

 

Hanzo placed the flask back down. You were still staring off at the sake bottle when he finished—hence the reason why you were startled as your face was cupped by a thick palm and guided up against his face. You moaned in surprise and shut your eyes. Subsequently, moist lips dug into yours and pried them open.

 

In that instant, there were only two sensations you could recall. First, your lips locking in a kiss. Second, a mouthful of sake flowing down your throat.

 

_Sake drinking done right._

 

At first you froze, unable to fathom the way he nourished you. Despite your behavior, he carried along, releasing the last bit of sake into your mouth while keeping still. His thumb rubbed your jawline tenderly, and he played with your sensitive skin using the skin of his fingertips, thick and calloused from years of holding a bow. The caresses stopped, though, once he was finished offering the very last drop of sake to your eager tongue.

 

When it was over, however, he did not remove his mouth. With your lips already collided, your bodies close together, it wasn’t long before you subconsciously moved your lips against his in a sucking motion. And so did he return the action against your own.

 

Almost a minute passed by as the two of you kissed one another. The motions were serious, slow and deep. You took your time indulging in what (or should you say who) you really wanted tonight, more so than anything else for your anniversary.

 

This was not the most traditional kind of anniversary date tonight—no, not in the slightest. Yet, that was a good thing. In fact, saying this was better would have been an understatement. You couldn’t have preferred this any other way. Not only that, but in a strange, metaphorical way, it reflected what your relationship was all about. You were Hanzo Shimada’s, and for that reason, he would do nothing but give to you. He would protect you. He would provide for you. He would nourish you. Most importantly, he would give you what he very well knew that everyone needed—love.

 

Hanzo was a keeper indeed. Forever would he be your one true marksman.

 

The warrior finally ended the kiss and pulled away from you gently. His breath had grown deep. “[Y/N]… my love…”

 

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against his. “Yes, Hanzo?”

 

“The dragon stirs within me,” he whispered.

 

You almost chuckled. “Did you almost summon your dragons by accident again?”

 

Hanzo paused before speaking again. This time, his voice was a little lower. “I was not talking about _that_ kind of dragon.”

 

~ooo~

 

He gave to you. Right now, it was your turn to give to him.

 

The bedroom lights were completely off. Thankfully, you had the moonlight pouring through your hotel room window upon Hanzo’s face to see whether or not you were doing a good job.

 

Hanzo laid on his back, staring up at you in amazement, panting heavily while keeping his grip on your thighs.

 

You were breathing just as heavily as he was, if not more so, since you were the one riding on top this time. You worked yourself up and down in a fluid motion upon his groin, riding his hardened manhood with vigor. You had kept your sight locked on his countenance the entire time, not once looking away, not even at his magnificent physique. After all, love could only be channeled through the eyes, couldn’t it?

 

Hanzo moved his hips up against you a bit harder. His hands wandered up your torso to knead your breasts.

 

You arched your back, leaning into his strong grip. At the same time, you put your arms behind your head, groaning softly as you ran your fingers through your hair. Your womanhood dripped a little wetter and eased the pounding of the thickness inside of you.

 

The male couldn’t sit back any longer. Filled with desire for you, he sat himself up and hungrily slithered his arms around your waist to draw you near. Of course, you responded, flinging your arms around his neck.

 

Now on the verge of climaxing with you, Hanzo moved himself more ferociously inside you, enough that you could feel him hitting up against your G-spot.

 

With your brain becoming cloudy, you winced and groaned, then rubbed his back to encourage him to hit it again.

 

And again he did it, this time focusing on aiming himself more into the desired spot. Soon, just as wanted did his most passionate thrusts aim and hit the mark within you to optimize the pleasure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your consciousness.

 

A little louder this time, you whimpered lustfully.

 

Enflamed with the same emotions, he hit it even harder.

 

You yelped. You dug your nails into his skin. You shut your eyes tight.

 

Closer.

 

Closer.

 

Getting closer.

 

Getting hotter.

 

Hanzo grunted against your neck.

 

Your hand traveled wildly along his dragon tattoo.

 

He opened his mouth wide. He sucked on your skin.

 

You turned your gaze to the moon.

 

One last thrust.

 

One last outcry.

 

Then the grand, white climax.

 

~ooo~

 

When it came to loving Hanzo, the afterglow was always the most satisfying part of the night, if not the most important. On the outside, it was nothing more than a time to lay under the covers, holding each other in your arms, staring into one another’s eyes without a word. But looks were deceiving—there was so much more going on inside than what lovemaking could produce.

 

He stared at you, looking as serene as a man after meditation.

 

You gave him thanks by running your fingers along the gray spot on his beard.

 

Taking your hand into his, he brought your palm to his lips and graced it fondly with a kiss.

 

And as silent as the two of you were, you said through your eyes what needed to be said.

 

The words that had you bound together for a year.

_I love you._

 

~ooo~


	5. Afterglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet lord, this story has hit the 10K mark and has nearly 500 kudos... On top of being filthy, you people are amazing.
> 
> I'll have to admit that before I wrote this chapter, I had a MUCH different plot in mind than what actually came out onto the screen here. But honestly, since this turned into something I believe to be pretty out of the ordinary for a fanfic, I'm kind of glad that this chapter didn't follow that plot. Hopefully, you guys will enjoy this one, and based on all the good feedback I've been getting for my efforts, I'm sure at least a handful of you will be intrigued.
> 
> So, sit back, relax, grab a cup of coffee, grab some popcorn, cuddle up next to your Hanzo body pillow, and enjoy this chapter.

Undeniably, you were in love with Hanzo Shimada. In return, he loved you just as much. Together, you were beautiful. You were equals, soulmates, comrades, a team. Indeed, your love was as strong and as bright as a diamond.

 

Not to mention, your man was the bedroom partner of your dreams. He was dark, handsome and strong, but he was generous. Even the way you two made love—oh, the _ways_ you two made love—were simply mesmerizing. You couldn’t have asked for a better sex life...

 

That last sentence. Scratch it out. Disregard it. Burn it right now. Don’t give yourself diabetes by devouring that sugar-coated lie. Instead, let’s be blunt: _you actually could have asked for a better sex life_.

 

Shocking, isn’t it?

 

To be specific, you and your marksman were not excused from the laws of human nature. Again, your sex life was far from horrible. When it came to mating with Hanzo, the experience was overall impressive, and problems were rather miniscule, if any at all.

 

However, the timing of your urges threw the biggest monkey wrench into that part of your love life. Regardless of how attractive you found each other to be, neither one of you was horny for the other 24/7—a condition which, in itself, was alright and even necessary for the sake of your wellbeing. But most annoying were the times when only _one_ was in the mood, whereas the other wasn’t up to it.

 

Right now, that was precisely what was happening. And this time, you were the one getting the short end of the stick. Hanzo had been going down on you about once per week on average, but for the past two or three weeks had the shagging come to a screeching halt. Hanzo, for God knows whatever reason, just hadn’t been interested. Worst yet, having gotten physically fitter from all the extra training lately, you had gotten a major self-confidence boost, meaning that you were feeling not only sexier but also _more_ than ready to “show it off” to your boyfriend. Yet, even while you undressed with Hanzo in the room, to your dismay would the marksman not even do so much as bat an eye. To solve the problem, you made a few attempts to initiate something, just in case his behavior changed. You dropped subtle hints to him here and there, like brushing your leg up against him in bed, or asking if he would massage you, or even walking up to him topless and asking him to check the freckle near your nipple to “make sure it wasn’t cancer.”

 

But your efforts were no use. Hanzo would not respond the way you hoped. Clearly, you had no choice but to respect those cues. Even if you were bummed, sexually frustrated, and a little worried that you were going days without any action to quench your seemingly undying desire for your marksman.

 

As hopeless as you made your struggle sound to your trusty girlfriend Lena “Tracer” Oxton, she didn’t mind bringing up a basic solution over breakfast.

 

“Have you tried asking him?” she inquired.

 

You finally stopped picking at the pancakes that you just barely took a bite from. You cocked a brow and glanced up at her. “Um… N-no, actually,” you answered.

 

The Brit took a sip of her orange juice, then wiped her mouth and grinned. “Then, you should.”

 

Blinking and frowning, you shook your head. “I… don’t think I should.”

 

“Huh?” Tracer’s smile vanished. Her head cocked to the side. “Why not?”

 

“Hanzo isn’t going to do something he doesn’t want to do. If he isn’t interested in it, then I don’t want to keep on bugging him.”

 

“But what if he really doesn’t know?” Tracer cut another piece of her pancake. “I’m not an expert on boys, but I sure know that they aren’t mind readers. Some chaps have trouble picking up on hints like that, you know. Sometimes, it’s just easier if you actually talk.”

 

You let out a sigh and set down your fork. “That’s the thing,” you commented. “What if he really _does_ know already? I mean, I tried a few times, so how could he not get the message?” You pulled your coffee mug towards you, looking down at the full cup that was now on the verge of getting cold, forcing you to decide in the back of your mind whether you wanted to drink it. “It’s really bothering me,” you said, “especially because I don’t know why he’s acting like this. But, at the same time, I don’t want to come across as too pushy or needy or anything. I’m scared that It’ll only make it worse.”

 

Tracer let out a thoughtful hum in the middle of taking a bite of food. After a few seconds of chewing, swallowing and thinking, she gave her input. “Well, you don’t have to ask him to do it, love. Ask him if he’s alright instead. You know, feel him out, just to see what’s wrong. It’s probably something weird that has nothing to do with you, or the relationship. Who knows?”

 

Slumping a bit in your chair, you frowned and pushed away the cup of coffee. You weren’t that thirsty right now. Not for coffee, at least. By the way your head suddenly ran with all the worst what-if scenarios again, thirst was becoming the least of your worries. You could have spurted out each and every one of them in a rapid, angsty word vomit to Tracer, just to get them out of your system, but you chose to keep it simple, summarizing it all in one low, brief murmur. “What if it does?”

 

_God forbid_ …

 

As if she had just heard something utterly silly, the other woman clicked her tongue, wearing a funny look. “[Y/N], why would you think that, dear?” she questioned.

 

You shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

 

Tracer snarled and shook her head. “Nu-uh! Are you kidding me? _Hanzo_?”

 

You kept quiet, waiting for an explanation for the Brit’s disbelief. As much as you liked Tracer’s optimism, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was looking at this problem through rose-tinted glasses (or goggles, in her case), which slightly got on your nerves.

 

“You see, love,…” Your comrade leaned forward. “You do realize that he’s absolutely _crazy_ over you, right? Come on, you have to. You’ve survived over a year together, for crying out loud.”

 

You wanted to chuckle. Was that her only reason? “Doesn’t mean that things are perfect,” you said to her.

 

“But, still, how could he see anything wrong with _you_?” she questioned. “You’re very pretty. He says that about you, he does. That, and you’re smart, kind, talented, and one wicked sniper. And just take a look at how happy you make him, even. That man is as straight-faced as a statue, and you, missy, are one of the few people who manage to ever crack a smile on his face. Not even Junkrat’s best jokes can do _that_.”

 

You took a deep breath. Her words calmed your nerves down a little. You had to admit—maybe you were blowing this problem a little out of proportion. It wasn’t like the whole relationship was at stake. Still, there was that mere possibility of a flaw in your intimate lives that you were responsible for mending.

 

Then again, it wasn’t like Hanzo to hold his thoughts in from you, especially if he was peeved by something you were doing…

 

Unless it was something he knew would hurt your feelings?...

 

Your stomach sank again, and you got faintly queasy. To avoid frustrating Tracer with your current doubts, you tried to distract yourself by looking down at your pancakes. “I’m probably going to need a box for these,” you said softly.

 

To your convenience, a waitress was walking away from a booth behind Tracer and was ready to pass your table. Your friend instantly caught sight of the lady from the corner of her eye, then perked up and gestured to her. “Pardon me miss. Can we get a box please?” she requested.

 

The waitress, a short, stout woman who looked about in her forties, stopped at your table and smiled. “Sure thing, hun,” she answered. “Just one?”

 

Tracer looked down at the remaining pancake on her plate. “Hm… Make that two.”

 

Suddenly, the waitress frowned, her lips cocked to the side. Her eyes narrowed on Tracer while she placed her hand on her hip. “Say, for some reason, you keep reminding me of someone famous back in my younger days,” she commented.

 

The brunette frowned. “Oh?”

 

“Yeah…” The waitress nodded. “Someone from a really famous band. Very attractive, too. I used to be crazy over them back then, but I can’t recall any names... Shoot, it’s gonna bother me now.”

 

Tracer beamed at her and shrugged.

 

“But anyways, let me go grab you those boxes,” she said before walking away. “Hopefully, I’ll remember by then.”

 

Both of you were quiet until the waitress returned to the kitchen. Tracer broke the silence with a semi-whisper. “I think I know who she’s talking about.”

 

You turned back to her. “Huh?”

 

The lady looked around cautiously before she leaned over the table and continued. “You know how I used to jump around a lot through time, right love?”

 

Realizing the need for privacy, you lowered your voice to her level. “Yeah. What about it?”

 

“Remember all those really strange memories I used to tell you about?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Well, in a lot of them, it was just… Really weird… I was in a group of gals who disguised themselves as boys and then started a boyband called ‘One direction.’ We had a lot of fangirls in the day, and maybe that lady was one of them…”

 

You raised your brows. “Really?”

 

“Yep…” She crossed her arms, looking at the ceiling pensively. “Shocking, though. I never thought we’d get so famous… And, oh! I think my stage name was Harry…”

 

~ooo~

 

Over the sound of the running water, you could hear the bedroom door opening and shutting in the other room.

 

Knowing who it was, you opened your eyes and took a deep breath. Thus concluded your relaxing shower. Not even the hot water could help soothe your suddenly fast-paced heart. Just a while ago, you had the balls to tell Hanzo that you wanted to talk to him; now, within these two minutes, you had to find the same set to actually speak to him.

 

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “[Y/N], I’m back from training,” said Hanzo from behind.

 

You swallowed. “Be out in a sec,” you said aloud, the shower disguising the shakiness in your voice. You reached out to the shower knob and shut the water off. Before stepping out, you grabbed the towel that was draped over the curtain rod, drying your hair and body, then wrapping it around your torso.

 

_Just relax_. _Like what Tracer said. Just ask if he’s alright. It will be fine. Maybe it’s nothing as bad as you think. Maybe it’s just something stupid, or a misunderstanding. All you have to do is ask. Communication is good, isn’t it?_

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, trying desperately to tune out all the fears in your head with the positives. Once you felt yourself gaining enough courage, you took another deep breath and faced the bathroom door. On the other side was Hanzo waiting. You couldn’t keep him like that for long. No choice but to rip it off like a band aid.

 

_Here it goes._

 

Without letting a second thought stall your hand, you reached for the doorknob and turned it. Cool air flowed into the bathroom and hit your face as soon as you opened the door. You could even see the steam clouds above you pouring out into the other room before they gradually vanished in the air. In a way, the drastic temperature change was pleasing, enough to give you one last wave of comfort even as your attention centered on Hanzo. The male was sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone when you entered. At first, he almost looked like a different man. You weren’t quite used to seeing his jet-black hair up in a tight man bun, save the single strand that cascaded over the side of his face. His plain t-shirt and sweatpants exaggerated the difference even more—a look that was pretty far from his traditional Japanese style, yet appeared reasonable. For a split second, you paused to take in his looks.

 

You didn’t know which made you feel more dehydrated: the heat from your shower, or the realization that Hanzo looked kind of sexy with a man bun.

 

The warrior already set down his phone and pushed it off to the side. His attention was currently directed to you. He didn’t look nervous, but it was hinted by his brows that he was a little concerned. “You… wanted to talk to me, correct?” he asked softly.

 

You nodded your head. “Umm… yes,” you replied. You walked up to the bed and grabbed the silky Star Wars robe that you laid out earlier. Dropping your towel to the floor, you quickly slipped into it while Hanzo watched you quietly. Clearly, he was waiting eagerly for you to start. Perhaps deep down, he was just as anxious as you were. Maybe he was imagining worst-case scenarios, too. And so, to ease both of you, you looked at him and took another deep breath. “Hanzo, first off, I want to say that this isn’t about anything bad,” you said.

 

“You appear uncomfortable, though,” he noted. “Are you certain that you’re alright?”

 

_Of course not. I’ve been feeling hot for you for days, and since we haven’t been doing it, I don’t know what else to do._

 

You paused, not sure if you wanted to give him a dead-honest answer or not. “I’ll live,” you finally said to him as you walked over and took a seat beside him. “But it’s you I’ve been worried about, not me.”

 

The archer blinked twice. “Hmm? Do tell me.”

 

_We haven’t had sex in the past three weeks, and I’m worried it’s because you’ve gotten bored of me and are no longer attracted to me._

 

“Well…” You looked down at the floor, hands folded neatly in your lap. “First off, if there was any problem in our relationship—anything at all—then, you would tell me, right?” You turned your head to scan Hanzo’s face.

 

His expression was softening. He was looking into your eyes sincerely. “Of course I would, [Y/N]. Always.”

 

As you neared the topic, your voice crackled. “E-even if it involved… intimate stuff?”

 

Hanzo blinked with an inkling of surprise. “Umm… Why… Yes,” he said. He sounded more curious this time. “Why do you ask me this?”

 

You were just standing on the border of the potential danger zone now. You could hear your inner pussy screaming at you to get the hell out of the room asap. Still, you wanted to push through this, even if this conversation was going to somehow end in a blow to your self-esteem. Taking that bold nosedive into the danger zone, you continued. “Umm… It’s just… I’ve noticed that we haven’t… _done it_ in the past few weeks… W-w-which is totally okay! That’s not what’s important to me. It’s just that…. Umm… It’s very different from how active we normally are, and… it alarmed me a little. So, just to make sure it wasn’t due to a big problem, especially if it has to do with me, then I just wanted to know if you were feeling okay in general…. T-that’s all…”

 

There. All out of you now. You were feeling perfectly fine.

 

That was, until you saw something that sent a feverish chill through you and nearly made you vomit. Hanzo was putting on the very last face you ever hoped to see during this conversation—a sullen, guilty gaze downward.

 

_Oh, shit…_

 

After a quiet moment, Hanzo was shaking his head. “I… cannot withhold it from you,” he murmured apologetically.

 

Your breath stopped. Your eyes widened. You broke out in a sweat.

 

Oh, why the hell did you even bother?

 

“H-Hanzo?...”

 

The archer let out a sigh. “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to tell you about this, but…”

 

_And the great Love Life Apocalypse is at hand…_

 

You were ready to open your mouth, regardless of whether you even had anything logical to say, but you stopped yourself when Hanzo randomly got up from the bed without saying a word, which not only confused you but also terrified the ever-living shit out of you at the same time. “Hanzo,” you stammered. “W-what are you…”

 

For some reason, the archer brought himself up against the wall, facing you. “Just… Watch me,” he commanded tensely.

 

Your brows furrowed. “Huh?”

 

No way could you have ever anticipated the scene that occurred before your eyes during those next few minutes. To your bewilderment, Hanzo suddenly gripped the waistband of his pants and pulled them down to his ankles in a flash, underwear included, leaving you flabbergasted by the abrupt sight of his genitalia. What the hell was he doing? Was he trying to reveal some kind of secret deformity? Everything about his masculine anatomy looked perfectly normal, so you weren’t quite sure what he was trying to show you.

 

Then he turned off the lights.

 

And your racing mind went as blank as a clean sheet of paper as you gazed upon the biggest W.T.F. moment you had ever witnessed.

 

Glowing an electric blue in the pitch-black darkness were Hanzo’s balls.

 

This was new.

 

You sat there silently in darkness, just staring. Over and over again did you try to process what you were seeing, trying to plaster the truth into your brain that no, this wasn’t your imagination, nor was this some crazy special effect. Your boyfriend’s scrotum was, in fact, glowing in the dark, right in front of you. You just didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even know what to think. The only thing on your mind as of now was the blazing question, _just how the fuck did this happen?_

 

Hanzo turned the lights back on. You squinted from the light, but your eyes adjusted, and you focused on his balls again. They had now returned to normal. Hanzo, however, was still frowning down at them with a look like he had been humiliated in front of 10,000 people.

 

And that was it. The big confession. The apparent reason why you went sexless for weeks. A brand new set of glow-in-the-dark testicles.

 

You finally recollected yourself enough to speak. You were still shocked, but you tried to sound as unaffected as possible. “So,… how did that happen?” you asked.

 

“Long story,” he muttered, his brows scrunching crossly. His tone shifted into a faint growl. “But you can thank Junkrat for this…”

 

Your brow twitched. Junkrat was involved? Maybe another one of his pranks, you figured. Aside from his mastery of explosives, you knew the wacked-out Australian to be a lover of extreme pranks. However, it didn’t seem ideal for him to pick Hanzo as his victim. He had no ill will against any of his comrades, and even if he wanted to pick on the team just for kicks, NEVER would he think of touching a serious, dark, deadly ex-assassin with the ability to summon giant dragons. After all, he probably didn’t fancy the thought of getting impaled like a giant shish kebab, or worse. “Is it permanent?” you asked.

 

Hanzo pulled up his pants, but his embarrassment didn’t fade. He shook his head. “It has been this way for many days, but will be gone in a week.”

 

“Then, if it isn’t serious, why were you so scared to tell me?”

 

The man started to look perplexed. “Are you not repulsed by them?” he asked. “Having just cursed your sight of me is disgraceful enough. And…” His lips snarled. He looked down at himself again. “Laying with you is out of the question…. Never would I dare to dishonor you by bedding you with something this _grotesque_ on my form!”

 

Your expression softened. “But Hanzo,” you said softly, “I don’t think it’s gross.”

 

The marksman paused and stared at you as if you had just grown three heads. “You… you don’t?”

 

“No,” you answered. “I’ll have to admit that it’s… a little startling. But as long as that’s the only thing you have going on, then I really don’t mind it.”

 

Hanzo became expressionless.

 

To assure your lover, you cracked a bit of a smile. “And in the meantime, if you’re insecure about it, then we could always just leave the lights on whenever we do it. That way, you won’t have to worry so much. Out of sight, out of mind, right?”

 

He let out a pensive hum. He walked back over to the bed and took a seat next to you again, folding his hands in his lap. He was a bit calmer now, but he behaved as if he didn’t believe you, even though you were being as truthful as a drunk. This time, you wiped off your smile, setting your hand on his shoulder. “Listen, Hanzo,…”

 

Amber eyes turned to you.

 

Your eyes greeted them with candor. “It would take much more than something like this to dishonor me. Trust me. This isn’t a big deal at all. And even if it was, as long as you’re honest with me, then you can still talk to me about _anything_ that bothers you, even stuff like this. I’m not your judge, and I’ll never act like I am. Okay?”

 

Again, a quiet stare. Then, Hanzo took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. After reading him for a little longer, you rubbed his back, leaned over and planted a simple kiss on his cheekbone.

 

Your marksman couldn’t help but react with a delicate smile.

 

~ooo~

 

Your head found a comfortable spot in the center of his chest as you propped a leg up over his waist, laying yourself on your side and holding gently onto his shoulders. The blue dragon embellished upon golden skin fondly embraced you with its long body, draping over your waist. Its head rested upon its master’s wrist, which rocked the guardian to sleep by brushing itself along your side in slow, tender strokes.

 

You could’ve sworn there was one more dragon protecting the two of you right now. It was not amongst the other one artistically ensnared around your lover’s arm, but you believed it had always been there. Instead of sleeping like the other one, it was wide awake. It gave vitality and strength to the body, beating itself furiously against the walls of the man’s chest, playing the tune that soothed your ears every night. It gave life. It gave energy. It gave warmth. And most importantly, it gave passion.

 

And maybe, there had been times when you and him were so close that this dragon visited your body as well.

 

Speaking of which, an idea had just stirred you.

 

“Are you warm enough?” Hanzo whispered against your hair.

 

You nodded. You were debating on whether or not to bring up your spontaneous thought to Hanzo. However, you figured it best to do it soon, at least before he fell asleep. “I have a request,” you quickly uttered.

 

“Hmm.” He opened his eyes and glanced down at your face half-attentively.

 

You rested your chin on his chest. “I want to see it again.”

 

The male answered back with nothing but a brow twitch.

 

To an extent, you regretted opening your mouth. Biting your lip, you clarified yourself by pointing towards his lower half.

 

Hanzo still didn’t say a word. He took a moment to stare back and forth between you and the same general direction to which your finger referred. His amber eyes heated up your face each time he stared, almost to the point where your skin felt ready to burn. When you felt too awkward to stare any longer, you directed your irises downward, as far from his face as you could. Hopefully, you weren’t turning your sight away from a face that a lover would make if his partner had some bizarre fetish that he didn’t reciprocate. If there was, then at least you didn’t have to see it. You could, however, feel the warrior’s body shifting and lifting beneath you. He started turning to his side, forcing you to tumble off and flop onto your back. You laid in that very same position, cheeks feeling scorching enough to cook an egg.

 

And of course, you were almost pretty sure that you fucked up the moment, all up until you viewed Hanzo getting onto widespread knees on top of you. To your awe, he willfully grabbed the waistband of his boxers.

 

He pulled down slowly.

 

And the darkness was broken up with a spot of electric blue as the perplexing glowing gonads were unveiled.

 

Your faced cooled down but remained fairly warm. Spending a moment to observe the mysterious parts, you slowly sat yourself up while taking in some of the details you didn’t catch earlier. The glow looked almost as if two lights had been inserted inside of the testes, and if you glanced carefully, you could even see some of the blood vessels just beneath the skin—a clear sign that the source of this unusual bodily effect (whatever in the world could have done this) was deeper within. Sure, almost anyone would probably snarl if you tried to describe glow-in-the-dark balls to them, but contrary to belief, if you wanted to describe them with a few words, you would have called them anything but disgusting.

 

Honestly, you thought they looked kind of cool.

 

Next, your eye was drawn to Hanzo’s manhood, which was dangling as a black silhouette in front of the azure glow. Even though it was a bit hard to tell without much light, based on the angle, you suspected it to be slightly erect.

 

“What are you going to do?” asked Hanzo, voice a bit swollen by insecurity.

 

“I just want to see something,” you said.

 

Hanzo was about to question you, but he was stopped and had instead released a short gasp as he felt you suddenly stroke one testicle with your finger. Your digit quickly retreated when you heard him, but without any sign of objection to the touch, you shortly resumed. This time, you gave the balls several gentle pokes, prods and strokes, yet to your intrigue, even soft touches did not alter the glow in any way. Curious, you resorted to using your entire hand to play with the lumps, fondling and caressing them like pieces of fruit hanging from a tree branch, once again producing the same result with respect to their glow. Nevertheless, your touch had not come without hearing some peculiar sounds which, as they started to grow louder, could be deduced as hushed, low-pitched moans. Without stopping your hand, you glanced up at your lover, who was already looking down at you and your inquisitive act. He appeared somewhat mesmerized, but he was responding to the contact the same as always—lips a little open, breaths deep, and very much approving.

 

You maintained eye contact. At the same time, you stopped your handiwork for just a moment to grab him by the shoulders, guiding him back down into his original spot on his back. As he laid out his legs, you grabbed the garments gathered at his knees, pulled them off his legs and tossed them to the side of the bed. Next, you took your turn on top of him, the subject of your current interest illuminating right before you. While you prepared to continue your little examination, you took note of his length once again. It was a little easier to tell the level of arousal while lying flat. Now, from the angle at which the member defied gravity, it was clear that the erection had just grown. Realizing this, you removed your attention from the testes. Like bees to sweet honey, your hands were gravitating towards Hanzo’s excitement, and without question was your man filling up with pure eagerness.

 

You began at the tip by tracing your finger around the rim. The move alone already earned you some music for your ears—a shaky exhale, mixed in with a curse word uttered in Japanese. After observing the length turn another notch harder, your index finger and thumb curled and turned into a ring around the head, which you moved up and down the shaft at a snail’s pace. You paid no more attention to the cock you stroked but instead made eye contact with your man. You normally found Hanzo to be too busy indulging in the feeling to look at you during hand jobs, but this time around did he manage to give off the most absorbent stare, which was not without unmistakable signs of pleasure like lip biting, blushing or even mild drooling. By natural muscle memory, the rest of your hand found its way around the warm erection. Gripping it firmly and even giving it a pulsating squeeze, you continued up and down Hanzo’s length, forcing him into a higher level of pleasure. You could see it in the way his large hands formed tight fists that scrunched the bedsheets in his grasp, and once or twice, you could hear him say your name as quiet growls through gritted teeth. When you took but a brief moment to look down at your current handiwork, something captivated your attention and shot an odd chill into you.

 

Was it just you, or did the small bead of pre-cum at the tip have a bluish glow to it?

 

Most would shy away from helping their partner finish in this moment if they were in your shoes. But being as curious as you were at this point made you want to keep going. You couldn’t help it—you were just _enthralled_. Thus, you worked faster on your subject, pumping up and down the girth, watching your lover again while he threw his head back and panted like a beast in the heat.

 

“Need moisture,” Hanzo grunted between huffs.

 

You brought your other hand up to your mouth. You took a second to gather up enough fluid in your orifice to spit into your palm. Once you had a decent handful, you brought it down to his manhood. Gracing the length with warm saliva, you used both hands to please every throbbing inch in firm, upward strokes, rotating between hands. It was a move, of course, that had the archer spellbound almost immediately, if not more so than he already was. This time, he growled your name louder. Then, his hands subconsciously returned the favor by slithering up your thighs before coming around and gripping your rear. You mewled softly; you were surprised at how much of a handful he could take up and squeeze. The manner in which he handled you had even forced your femininity to sensitize a little.

 

Hanzo’s eyelids were tightening shut. “Going to come,” he ejected through an arousing noise between grunting and moaning. From the sounds he made, it was clear that the dragon within him was about to show.

 

You worked harder and faster. Your hands were beginning to have cramps from how vigorously you were going, but you didn’t care. The louder growls and the tighter clenches on your body were enough to keep you motivated to bring Hanzo closer and closer to the climax. Even if it was going to take you ten, twenty, thirty minutes, or even a whole damn hour, you wouldn’t have given half a damn. Thankfully on your part, it probably wasn’t even going to take you any more than one minute, for after about twenty seconds could you already feel the erection twitching aggressively.

 

Harder, harder, faster you went.

 

“Oh, [Y/N],” Hanzo growled again. “[Y/N].” The man bore his teeth and dug his nails into your skin, giving you a pleasurable sting that made you moan faintly and bite your lip. It wasn’t long before you could feel one of the massive hands release you and then trail slowly from your rear down in between your legs.

 

Seconds later, you let out a yelp of surprise. Without warning, a thick finger roughly entered your sex, pushing all the way up into you and almost hitting your cervix. You were already wet by the time his digit moved around wildly inside of you, hitting and teasing every delicate spot of nerves with vicious fervor. Even your G-spot received no mercy—every time it was pushed did a small hurricane go off in your head. By the way your head already felt light with a tingling spin, you were amazingly just as close to orgasming as he was.

 

Oh dear god… So sweet… So amazing….

 

But so odd…

 

You couldn’t recall being _this_ responsive to Hanzo’s touch before.

 

Not in a while, at least.

 

_Oh well. Guess this is what happens when you’ve been on sexual withdrawal for a while._

 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a much louder groan. In between noises, Hanzo was snarling a few things in Japanese, most of which you couldn’t exactly make out. But you minded none of it, nor did you need to. It didn’t take words in any language to figure out that he was right on the edge of coming, too.

 

Finally, you orgasmed with an outcry.

 

And so did he…

 

Along with a massive, satisfied roar that almost echoed off the walls of the bedroom.

 

After a moment of whiteness that you could barely describe with words, you slowly returned to consciousness.

 

Your vision cleared. The first thing you saw was Hanzo’s face. It was hard to see his eyes with the loose raven strands of hair matted to his forehead. The only parts you could clearly see were his lips, which were currently surrounding the thick finger that ravaged you just moments ago. He soon withdrew the finger with a soft popping sound, but he kept his mouth open. Slow, heavy breathing came out of him, and you assumed that his eyes were closed until his hand came up to comb the tresses out of his face, revealing dark eyes that were not only fixing on you with passion but were also narrowing on you as if looking at something strange. Noticing this, plus suddenly recognizing a warm, moist sensation on your chest, you took a glance downwards.

 

In this intimate scene did you find two very astonishing events:

 

Number one. His balls were no longer glowing.

 

And then, there was number two.

 

Every ounce of fluid emitted by Hanzo had essentially hit your bare breast in a hot splatter. The archer had come a bit more than he usually did, but the amount was definitely not as shocking as the present color. Now, instead of the scrotum, it was the hot cum decorating your skin with a bright glow-in-the-dark blue.

 

Anyone with a sense of humor would have compared this to a scene from some alien film. As astounded as you were, even you had to admit to yourself that it was pretty freaky.

 

You also had to admit, however, that maybe this was…

 

Well,… it was kind of _hot_.

 

“You look beautiful,” murmured Hanzo.

 

You looked up, cheeks turning red. Did you hear him correctly? In the midst of you being covered in his bizarrely glowing semen, did he just tell you that you looked _beautiful_? Maybe he was being sarcastic, or maybe it was a joke…

 

He sat up. You analyzed his face again and turned redder. No, it wasn’t either of those guesses. He looked dead-serious right now. Not only that, the deep passion had remained in his dark stare even as he looked at your chest.

 

Dear God. _He liked it, too._

 

A finger quickly swiped up a drop of blue off your nipple, which made you fidget. Hanzo brought it to eye-level, examining the liquid very closely for a second. You joined him and marveled quietly at the electric color mixed in with the colloidal appearance, almost like looking at the chemical inside of a glow stick.

 

That was when he took this same drop, smearing it on your upper arm. There, it left a distinguishable trail of blue on that same spot.

 

Next, Hanzo planted both hands on your breasts.

 

You gasped in surprise and watched.

 

Hanzo gave a few firm squeezes before rubbing them. Your breasts had plenty of cum on them, which was now being swirled around on your skin with Hanzo’s hands. Once the man withdrew, there was even darkness breaking up the blue in the form of two hand prints, which made you feel overwhelmingly warm. Regardless if the glowing blue was his semen (which was honestly quite harmless compared to most other things), it really did look mesmerizing on you. In a way, you sort of reminded yourself of the dancing girls wearing glow-in-the-dark paint at those neat rave parties in the dark. Most importantly, though, was that Hanzo was right—it looked _beautiful_.

 

The next ten minutes had turned into an exotic art class. Hanzo had used the blue liquid almost all over your body, like a child playing with glow-in-the-dark finger paint. He would draw simple lines here and there on you, like a line of dashes down your leg or diagonal lines on your arms, but most of the designs consisted of his large handprints on many of your body parts. And you, his canvas, were turned on by every shape, line and design he made. You were covered in blue, bright marks. _His_ marks. With _his_ paint. _All his_. And _his_ care on your body was making you beautiful in a way you never thought you could be.

 

When finished, he embraced the artwork. He held you close, and he kissed you. You rewarded him with your sweet lips as you indulged in one another, tasting each other, feeling each other, letting that inner dragon flow between your bodies freely.

 

And that same night, for the first time in weeks, he made love to you. Because so much sexual tension had been relieved from your flesh, it almost felt like the first time he took you. With Hanzo no longer suffering from insecurity, and with the dragon within him roaring as wildly as ever, he had seemingly transformed into a brand new man, an enhanced version of himself. Every thrust, kiss, lick, bite, and groan was full of fire, burning you up and making you scream his name, louder than you had ever screamed before. Even the moment he came felt like a volcanic eruption that set your heart ablaze.

 

You were right. That inner dragon had always been there. Never had it left him.

 

~ooo~

 

_3 WEEKS AGO…_

 

~ooo~

 

The clocks had struck 10:30 at night. With another mission day nearing, the team found it necessary to get to bed earlier that week, and thus most of the members had already been fast asleep for almost an hour now. All except Junkrat and Roadhog, who were spending their time in the kitchen, and this time, it wasn’t for another one of Roadhog’s late-night snacking sessions.

 

Junkrat opened the fridge. “Tha’ damn McCree’s gonna git what’s coming to ‘im,” he snickered menacingly.

 

Roadhog stood in front of the fridge with the other. In his hand was what appeared to be an average carton of skim milk. It looked average, at least. “How long do we leave this in here for?” the large man asked.

 

“’Bout twelve hours, accordin’ to th’ online d’rections.” The junkie grabbed the carton from his partner and set it on the shelf right next to another carton of milk.

 

“Sure someone won’t come in n’ accidentally drink it tomorrow?” asked the massive man.

 

Junkrat clicked his tongue, shutting the fridge door tight and patting it. “Nah,” he replied. “No one will tayke it. McCree drinks a way diff’rent milk than we do. Ev’ry focker ‘here drinks th’ two p’cent, roight?”

 

Roadhog let out a groan of uncertainty. “If you say so.”

 

And together, the boys escaped from the kitchen.

 

Twelve hours rolled around to the very next day. The team members had the pleasure of waking up to a perfect morning: the sun was shining brightly without a cloud in the sky, birds were chirping loud in the trees nearby the windows, and the temperature inside and outside was neither too hot nor too chilly. Indeed, all seemed fairly well—an ideal setting for the great start of another day for the proud team of six heroes.

 

But today would not be the case for Hanzo.

 

The archer went to the fridge first when he entered the kitchen. Searching for milk, his eyes went to the 2% carton containing the milk that he was normally _forced_ to use— _forced_ , because he could have cared less about 2% milk, but since the rest of the team used it and didn’t want to spend extra money on a different milk that only one member would use, he decided to cave in.

 

Then, Hanzo’s sight shifted beside the milk when he spotted another carton by surprise. A different carton with skim.

 

“Hmph. Finally,” mumbled the Asian as he grabbed the new carton. “People decided to be considerate for a change.” With the carton in hand, he slammed the fridge door, then went to the cupboard and grabbed a small glass. He opened the carton and poured half a glassful for himself before setting the milk on the counter.

 

Immediately, the man drank the milk. He neither sensed anything odd about its texture, nor did he pick up on any unusual smells or tastes. It was just like a regular glass of milk.

 

_Just like_ a regular glass of milk.

 

When finished, Hanzo suddenly felt the urge to go use the bathroom. Wiping his mouth, he set down the empty glass and then preceded out of the kitchen.

 

Literally seconds after he went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him did his two junkie comrades walk in. Junkrat was already in his regular “uniform,” but Roadhog was still in his matching My Little Pony pajamas, donning a matching pair of pink fluffy slippers embroidered with the face of his favorite pony, Pinky Pie.

 

As Junkrat walked over to a cupboard and brought out the coffee, he caught sight of Roadhog’s slippers, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Still ‘ave those? Realley, mate?” he scoffed.

 

The massive pig took a seat at the table, chair creaking due to his weight. He shot his teammate a dirty look through his mask. “So what? I like Pinky Pie,” he growled. “Deal with it.”

 

“Ev’ryone knows Twoilight Spa’kle is th’ best!” retorted the rat. He plugged in the coffee pot, anticipating an angry rejection from Roadhog. Instead, he heard nothing, which at first made him snicker. “Hah! Ya know I’m roight!” he cheered.

 

Again, silence.

 

Junkrat frowned. “’Ello? I sed ya know I’m roight,” he repeated more slowly. Maybe the pig was trying to think of a good comeback, he thought at first.

 

No response.

 

Junkrat was a bit weirded out—and frankly irritated—that his friend was not continuing the argument with him. Realizing that the pig wasn’t quite acting like himself, the rat threw a glanceover his shoulder. “’Ey! Roadhog! I’m talkin’ to y—“ He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he noticed something about the man’s masked face. Within the glare of Roadhog’s goggles did he find two small eyes, now seeming twice as wide, as if he had seen a ghost. Puzzled by this, Junkrat cocked a brow. “Th’ fock’s wrong with _you_?!” he asked.

 

With a girthy finger now oddly trembling from terror, Roadhog pointed next to the fridge. “LOOK.”

 

Curious, Junkrat looked to where his friend pointed.

 

Once the rat viewed the skim milk carton on the counter with the empty glass of milk, lip marks riddling the edge of the glass, the rat’s eyeballs nearly popped out of his head with just as much terror. “Ohhhhh, sweet Bastillon’s balls…”

 

And like delicate glass, the bliss of the morning was shattered by a blood-curdling scream from the bathroom.


	6. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long disappearance, guys. Life got busy with work, school, vacation, wine drinking, etc. But here I am, with another wonderful chapter to add to your hot summer reading.
> 
> This chapter is probably the longest I've ever written so far, but that's because I've added much more to the story line this time, just to give you guys a nice break in between all the tasty lemons. Plus, I've had a couple of requests for more action in my stories, so I decided to take a shot at it and see how it works.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy.

“Die! Die! Die! Die!”

 

You could feel your nerves scream to that dreaded yell. Before you realized it, another hellish whirlwind of bullets was shot in every direction like a fireworks show gone bad. It wasn’t until the startled screams of team members electrified you that you had the reflex to jump out of the way behind a brick wall. At perfect timing, too—a bullet zipped through the air where your head was just a _hundredth_ of a second ago, instead hitting solid brick with a sizzling spark. No doubt you felt that bullet whistle by your ear with a breeze that threatened your skin, forcing your heart into your throat and tripping you over your own foot. Your hands jolted open, and your weapon flew from your grasp and hit the ground a few feet away with a clatter. With the jolt of terror still ravaging your muscles, your limbs were still too shaky to get back up right away. By sheer will, however, you forced them to comply, and you had at least managed to struggle successfully onto your forearms. As shaken as you were, you couldn’t delay. Enemies were getting territory. Teammates were getting hurt. _You were getting counted on._

 

You cursed at yourself and crawled frantically to your rifle. You reached out, only for the weapon to be kicked further away from you, and with callousness the same force pinned your hand against the concrete.

 

“Since when did they let y’all use toys in a battle?”

 

You yelled out. The abrasive rubber sole was unforgiving against your skin. The weight was enough to block the circulation and crush your fingers, and you couldn’t squirm without aggravating the sting. Clenching your teeth in pain and fury, you aimed a fiery glance up at your foe.

 

A thick cigar twitched between chapped lips that stretched into a devilish grin. “D’ya have any idea what time it is, darlin’?”

 

“Time for you to go to hell, McCree,” you snarled.

 

The cowboy snickered and raised his brows. “Ugly words from a pretty mouth.”

 

Again, you cried out. His boot twisted on your hand in a way that pinched your already-prickling skin. Remembering the combat knife attached to your belt, you used your free hand to slide it out swiftly. Unfortunately for you, McCree was a little bit quicker: just as you were on the verge of striking his leg, a gun had already been whipped out and aimed straight at your temple, warning you to stay your blade. “Now, I’ll ask ya ‘gain.” He launched his other foot against your wrist, a blow that tormented your hand to the bone and compelled you to drop your knife. It wasn’t long before the sting of the boot was replaced with the grip of cold metal around your wrist, followed by a rough twist and pull that forced your head next to his belly and stretched your arms vertically. You groaned as the painful tingling in your lower hand maximized while the other was squeezed by his harsh prosthetic fingers. Snickering with pleasure, he pushed the nose of his gun against your forehead, tipping your head back so that you were staring at his face. In a slow, raspy voice dipping low, he repeated himself. “D’ya have any idea what time it is?”

 

You glared up at him ferociously, and you gave him no reply. If you opened your mouth, it certainly wouldn’t be the answer you knew he was looking for, but instead a fresh, spiteful wad of spit on that filthy arrogant face.

 

With his finger joyously caressing the trigger, McCree twisted the gun a little against your skin. “I dunno ‘bout you,” he droned, “but on _my_ watch, it’s—“

 

A loud whistle sounded.

 

The cowboy paused and frowned. The second he glanced over his shoulder was when he took a hefty bow to the face.

 

**_ELIMINATED MCCREE._ **

 

You fell back down onto the concrete as the freshly knocked-out McCree released your hand and tumbled over to his side. The other hand that was tormented under his boot had quickly retracted beside your face. The circulation returned to your fingers quite rapidly, but you wiggled them in front of your face to prove to yourself that they were still functional (you needed them to finish this fight, after all). Then, your attention was caught by a metal boot stepping in front of you. When you turned your face upward, you found brilliant amber eyes scanning you briefly with clashing senses of worry and relief.

 

You assured Hanzo with a nod.

 

The archer offered you his hand. “We do not have much time.”

 

 “Reaper’s shooting everyone up the ass,” you told him. “We have to get rid of him first.” You grabbed him by the wrist, your fingers just barely able to wrap around its thickness.

 

Likewise, he grabbed yours. “I shall take care of him.” He pulled you back up to your feet with ease. After you dusted yourself off, he walked over to your weapon, picking it up and tossing it back into your arms. “You go after Widowmaker,” he said, pulling an arrow out from behind. “She’s still hiding somewhere. Best you see her before she sees you.”

 

You re-positioned your rifle. “Where did you last see her?”

 

Hanzo drew his bow. “Next to that building behind you, a few minutes ago.”

 

You nodded. “Got it.”

 

The marksman turned the other way and ran. At the same time, you darted in the opposite direction towards the location he pointed out to you. Sneaking out of sight behind crumbled walls and buildings, you made your way to an abandoned building that overlooked the sight of the carnage. With small windows and an apparently perfect view of everything below, it was definitely a sniper’s haven. Widowmaker could have been looking through any of those windows at the moment, gazing down on every living soul, waiting for the perfect opportunity to shoot.

 

For all you knew, she may have very well been watching you, too.

 

Just in case, you rushed over and crouched down behind a massive rock. On occasion, you carefully peeked around and observed the windows diligently, watching for any sign of the assassin within those dark openings. Any movement at all, even just a glimmer would make you retract behind your hiding spot in a flash. Every time you retreated had you grown more cautious to look again. Maybe you were overreacting; maybe you were only seeing a curtain moving from the breeze, or a shiny piece of pottery glimmering inside. Still, you couldn’t take any chances. This wasn’t just any sniper you were hunting down but a coldblooded, emotionless, subhuman woman with years of training under her belt. If you wanted to find your enemy without getting your head blown off, you would have to give this your best, if not beyond that. While checking your ammo, you took a second to think of your strategy. Your best bet was to take Widowmaker while her eye was off you. However, the real challenge would be spotting the assassin without being spotted in return, and you were very much aware of her infamously incredible vision. No one could hide from her sight, so she proudly claimed.

 

You’d put that claim to the test. Somehow…

 

“Sniper!”

 

The yells alerted you to the side of the battle. Without pause, the sudden outcry was instantly accompanied by a loud gunshot that echoed throughout the battlefield. Peeking around, you found the source of the voice—a disheveled Lúcio, falling to the ground and scurrying behind another boulder for cover. He sat there panting while looking down at one of his rollerblades in distress, running his hand over the spot where a wheel once was. By the looks of the damage, your friend wasn’t going to be able to zip around without the risk of falling on his face. He could take them off and run around on foot, but it would make him a much more vulnerable target.  Regardless, that’s what Lúcio did. He hastily undid and kicked off each rollerblade while glancing around occasionally for oncoming enemies. It only left just his bare socks, which didn’t look thick enough to protect his feet from the harsh rubble of the ground. Just moving alone would be too risky for him to begin with—before he could even leave his spot, another shot was fired and had scraped the edge of the boulder near his head. And so, he had no choice but to keep still behind the rock. The sniper had to have been heavily fixated on him now. The unfortunate DJ was turned into nothing but a sitting duck—perhaps a nice target for Widowmaker.

 

Then you realized. Now was your chance.

 

You reached up and pressed a button on your earpiece. “Lúcio, are you okay?”

 

After you finished, the crackling sound of another activated earpiece was audible. At first, you heard some heavy breathing. “ _Tch. I wish_ ,” huffed the DJ on the other end. “ _Widowmaker just busted my new rollerblades, man. Now she’s got me stranded here, trying to put a new hole in my head. Shit, [Y/N], I like dolphins, and I’m flattered she knows that, but I wouldn’t make a good one_.”

 

You would’ve chuckled if he wasn’t in such a dire situation. “Hey, listen,” you replied. “Stay right where you are, okay? She’s probably going to be fixating on you, so I need you to keep on distracting her. I’ll try and get her when she isn’t looking.”

 

“ _But what about the others_?” he argued. “ _I’m the only healer here, and people are wounded. Unless Mercy wants to take over, but I don’t think she’s switching sides any time soon._ ”

 

“You won’t be able to do any of that,” you replied. “Not until I take care of Widowmaker. Just stay where you are.”

 

Lúcio sighed. “ _Whatever you say_.”

 

You released your earpiece and gripped your rifle more tightly. The side in which Lúcio hid and the direction of the bullets gave away Widowmaker’s ideal location, not to say the assassin wasn’t changing her sniping spot already. Yet, changing places after one shot was an expected sniper move: perhaps a bit too typical for her. Maybe she stayed in the same place just to trick your ally into exposing himself, hence why you didn’t direct him to move.

 

With that logic, you carefully peeked around. Your eyes went to the building across the road from Lúcio’s rock, and you automatically skimmed over the windows on each floor. At first, you saw nothing. You then decided to take a closer look using the scope of your gun, lowering yourself to the ground and positioning your rifle neatly aiming towards said direction. Gazing intently through the powerful scope, you examined each window a second time. It proved very useful, too, because you could see much more detail within the darkness of those openings.

 

Again, they were vacant.

 

Nevertheless, a good sniper knows that patience is a virtue. For that, you searched each window again, just for good measure.

 

Then another search…

 

Then another…

 

And another…

 

And all it took was one crimson shimmer in the corner of a third-floor window.

 

You didn’t waste a second. Your instincts simply took over. By the command of your trigger finger, your rifle unleashed its outcry of fire and steel. Even if your eyes deceived you, you couldn’t have given a damn; you just didn’t want to miss any chance you had.

 

But to your luck, your bullet wasn’t wasted.

 

The gleam of red vanished. You could hear a faint shout from the building, then dead silence. Slowly, you lowered your weapon, but your eyes stayed on that very window.

 

**_ELIMINATED WIDOWMAKER._ **

 

A few seconds later, your earpiece automatically turned on as someone tuned in to you. After the electronic crackle subsided, Lúcio’s voice emerged, laced with amazement. “ _[Y/N], I think she’s down!_ ”

 

You got up from your position slowly and pressed your earpiece. “Coming to you now,” you noted. Looking left and right, you came out from behind your hiding spot and rushed over to Lúcio’s rock. On your way, your keen eyes occasionally glanced over at the heart of the battle, just within the center of some worn-down buildings. You could see fighters from both sides going one-on-one with each other, guns, bombs, lasers and such going off every which way. Though, most of the attention was on Reaper, who not only seemed to be the worst of them but was also doing the most guarding of your team’s objective area. As of now, Hanzo was assaulting him with arrows, which only enraged the notorious gunman as he swiftly dodged each shot. Reaper reacted by delivering a hefty load of shots at the archer, only producing sparks against concrete as Hanzo dove behind a wall. As much as you trusted Hanzo’s skills, you had to admit that the brawl was a bit hair-raising to watch. And so, you directed your attention back to the dark-skinned man, now standing up and putting on the face of relief as you approached. “Served her right for ruining my new rollers,” he congratulated.

 

You knelt to the ground and quickly reloaded your gun. “You’ve got a job to do. Our friends need support,” you stated. “I’ll cover you.”

 

Lúcio was staring down at his socks anxiously until he heard you. Mustering up some confidence, he looked up to you and put on his best game face. “Gotcha.”

 

Once you got back up on your feet, the two of you proceeded closer into the battle. With little protection on his feet, Lúcio cringed slightly as he stepped on a handful of pebbles, but he sucked it up and kept a decent pace beside you. As you grew nearer, you found yourself following faint shouts for a healer over the gunfire, and the sound led you to an old white truck stained with dirt and rust. In case they were the cries of a foe, you positioned your rifle and silently threw your back up against the door. Lúcio got up behind you and waited for you to make your move. He tightly clenched his sonic amplifier, glancing left and right every few seconds to ensure that trouble didn’t catch either of you from behind. From the direction of the noise, you could tell that the injured fighter was just around the corner. You were doubtful that you’d have to fire a bullet, though; the pitch sounded very well like Tracer’s. Regardless, you knew better than to make assumptions or _ever_ let your guard down, especially during a battle.

 

After taking a breath, you then stepped swiftly around the corner, and in one brief movement were you in firing position straight at the source.

 

Even though the wounded warrior turned out to be D.Va rather than Tracer, you still didn’t open fire.

 

The girl’s mech was nowhere in sight. It had been used earlier to self-destruct on your teammates. She was currently by herself and thus fully unprotected, rendering her a ridiculously easy target. Even her light gun—her only last resort for self-defense—was not on her person and was actually laying on the ground much further away. Her perceivable pain wasn’t doing her any favors either: she was leaning against the vehicle, hunching over and clenching her abdomen while wincing as if she had taken a hefty blow. Her squinted eyes were on you when they opened up, and they instantly beamed with both anguish and terror.

 

Even though this helpless teen was at the mercy of your gun, something stopped you. Instead, you twitched your brow while looking where her hands were. It was obvious that the pain was coming from her lower stomach, and from the way she could barely stand, it had to have been major. Yet, despite the location, you couldn’t find a single spot of blood on her blue suit. In fact, you didn’t see any wounds on the surface at all. Not even a scratch or a tare. For a second, she had you wondering whether she was really faking it just to trick you into lowering your guard, maybe as part of a trap, so you kept your weapon pointed at her head. But from the way she thickly groaned like a cat in heat, you realized otherwise. Considering this, you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about shooting D.Va at the moment. Yes, she was technically your enemy, but since killing her wasn’t quite part of your mission, you didn’t see any point to shooting a nearly crippled 19-year-old girl who could do literally nothing right now. Quite honestly, you didn’t think it was fair, either.

 

After another groan, D.Va’s face warped into a scowl. “What are you waiting for?” she grumbled. “Just shoot me and get it over with.”

 

You gave her a puzzled look. You weren’t exactly sure what to do right now. Lúcio, on the other hand, had come out from behind you, his eyes widening once he saw the girl. Shocked that you weren’t putting a hole in her head, he turned to you. “The hell are you doing, [Y/N]? Shoot her!” he exclaimed.

 

Your face became straight again. After waiting a few seconds, your brought your scope to your eye and aimed your rifle.

 

D.Va shut her eyes and cringed as you fired in her direction.

 

Still, by your command, D.Va remained untouched.

 

A few seconds after hearing the boom of your gun, she reopened her eyes. She glanced behind her, seeing her gun much further away, now blasted and coughing up sparks and smoke from the cracks.

 

Still staring at your target, you lowered your gun slowly. “Let’s go, Lúcio,” you muttered.

 

The Latino’s mouth had dropped open. He looked about ready to grab and shake you. “Ummm, hello?!” He threw his hands outward, motioning to D.Va. “Enemy at twelve o’ clock here?!”

 

Despite Lúcio’s reaction, you turned around, ready to start the other way. So what if he thought you were crazy? You had your reasons. “Why should I?” you said to the side. “She’s not part of the objective. Besides, we’ve got others to worry about. Now, come on.”

 

Still baffled and frustrated, Lúcio groaned and shook his head. “Well, _okay_. But it’s on you if this ends up screwing us over.”

 

You didn’t say anything else. You just began to walk away. Right now, even D.Va was probably gawking at you as if you had just grown a third eye. Were you really making a dumb move? It certainly wasn’t the norm for a sniper to spare an opponent’s life, but you didn’t want to do any more carnage than what was necessary. So long as you did your duty, your superiors wouldn’t give a damn if your foes were dead or alive. More importantly, killing gave you no pleasure. Not even the fresh hot blood of your worst enemies could ever give you that high. You were better than that. _Way_ better.

 

Lúcio reluctantly followed you as you made your way from the truck, but you and your teammate had only taken a few steps before a heavy thud halted you and compelled you look behind at D.Va again. The girl’s behavior resembled that of a lady ready to give birth. She had fallen onto all fours, her moans growing louder, limbs shaking. One arm flung around her torso again, constricting it firmly to somehow relieve the pain. At first, you turned away and tried to keep going, fearing that her noises would alert Mercy to her location, but then you heard Lúcio call your name. One more time, you paused and directed your attention to the wailing Korean woman, now oddly tugging at the groin of her suit.

 

At last, you and Lúcio witnessed D.Va rip the blue stretchy fabric open before your eyes, and you were shocked with the very unanticipated sight of her full rear and underside, covered by nothing more than a cheeky pair of bunny-printed underwear.

 

Your eyes widened, lower lip feeling like it had dropped onto the ground.

 

Just as taken aback as you were, Lúcio took a step back. His dark cheeks turned a bright cherry color. “W-what… the—?”

 

As if the moment couldn’t have gotten any more out of the blue, things escalated _very_ quickly. D.Va moaned and reached to her crotch again, and in a split second, the bunny panties shared the same fate as her suit.

 

Of course, neither you nor your teammate were prepared for the much-too-vivid revelation of her vagina.

 

Lúcio covered his eyes and turned the other way, whereas you kept utterly frozen. It was practically like watching the catastrophic explosion of a tall building—no matter how badly the image broke your mind, you couldn’t look away. No point to it anyways: you couldn’t unsee what had already been seen.

 

Unbelievably, that wasn’t the most outrageous part. Shit had only gotten worse from there. D.Va was still howling madly. Her face had almost turned so red that her pink facial “markings” were barely visible. Currently, the poor girl was starting to sound less like a woman in labor and more like a wild dog taking a colossal dump. Likewise, something was, in fact, coming out of her, although it wasn’t a baby or a poop, nor was it certainly what you expected. Out from between the folds of her womanhood came something rather unnatural in appearance. The mysterious object—if it wasn’t living—had a deep purple color and a rubbery texture. You couldn’t make out what exactly that thing was, but once it gradually made half its way out of D.Va, its shape started to remind you of…

 

Oh… So, _that’s_ what it was…

 

The teen let out one last frustrated cry as the object finally plopped out of her onto the ground. She made no other noise after that, other than a _very_ relieved groan. It wasn’t long before the girl’s eyes rolled back and her wobbling limbs gave out beneath her. She smacked against the ground with a hard thud, her sweaty face meeting the dirt beneath her, then passed out.

 

You and Lúcio, meanwhile, were having the most difficult time processing the interesting spectacle that was a _massive_ purple dildo—a good sixteen inches long, to be exact—lying without a care in the world between D.Va’s legs, still covered in feminine fluids.

 

Yes. A dildo.

 

A _fucking dildo_ was right here, on the battlefield.

 

After a few seconds of gawking, Lúcio’s mind repaired itself enough that he could finally talk. “So… I’ve got two questions,” he murmured blankly. “Number one. Who in the actual fuck uses a sex toy in the middle of a battle? And number two… Is D.Va really that loose that it gets lost _inside_ of her?”

 

You shook your head slowly. Your mouth was purely vacant of all words. “I… really couldn’t tell you.”

 

The DJ took a closer look and cringed when he noted the toy’s abnormal girth. “ _Oh, damn_ ,” he commented, shaking his head and blinking. “She uses something like _that_? Man, that thing could probably do some real damage.”

 

You were no longer paying attention. You had gotten distracted by the rising volume of Reaper’s cussing and shots firing from close by. Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of the black-cloaked gunman flying across the field and firing away ferociously in the direction of a rooftop. Next thing you saw was Hanzo leaping across the roof and somersaulting behind a statue, then moving out from behind to fire a few arrows. From the looks of the fight, it was clear that both parties were struggling to get any major hit on the other.

 

Meanwhile, with a grossed-out snarl on his face, your teammate took another couple of steps towards the dildo, examining it further. “That thing looks like… a freakin’ vagina missile,” he continued. “It’s like a weapon of mass destruction for your vagina… Or, if you were gay, then a weapon of _ass_ destruction.”

 

Staring at Reaper, your expression faded into a worried frown. Despite the men being of different fighting classes, Hanzo and Reaper seemed almost equally matched in strength and skill, hence the reason for their current stalemate. Hanzo thankfully possessed superb stealth and could therefore avoid the worst that his opponent had to offer. On the other hand, Reaper had his “wraith form” to make up for his inability to wound the other, giving him a hundred-percent protection from every arrow, every time, for as long as his pitch-black heart desired (if he even had one). However, the stalemate itself wasn’t the problem with this scene. Rather, you were terrified by the fact that the man with ultimate advantage was Reaper—he was the one holding the objective. For his team to win, all he had to do was survive.

 

With the very small window of time you had, you couldn’t help but analyze the situation. You wanted to help, but you knew that extra manpower alone wouldn’t make much of a difference. Not with a fighter _that_ challenging to hit. And Reaper was absolutely not like D.Va: you couldn’t make him any squishier of a target just by taking away his weapons. In short, the only chance your team really had against the hell-bringing son of a bitch was through bypassing his defense. Somehow...

 

Then, something caught your attention. A pattern. The only time Reaper never used his wraith form was during shooting. Therein lied another problem, though: any fighter would be too preoccupied with dodging and taking cover to fire a single bullet at him. Either you’d have to hit Reaper while he was distracted (which was a slim chance, since he was always diligent about his own guard), or you’d have to turn his own power against him. In this case, the latter would be more effective, but it demanded quite some thinking outside the box. Oh, damn, how would you do it, though? This wasn’t some old Looney Tunes cartoon. You couldn’t just bend the enemy’s gun and make him shoot himself, nor could you put a cork in his gun and make it explode on him.

 

Or could you?

 

While you were lost in thought, Lúcio was still rambling off about the dildo. “You could clog a toilet with that,” he muttered to himself.

 

“Or a gun,” you added.

 

Lúcio turned to you, raising his brows. “Oh, tch! Definitely a gun!”

 

“Then I’ve got a plan. Give me that toy.”

 

His brows wrinkled up. “Wait, what?”

 

You didn’t bother to clarify yourself. You hurried over to D.Va. Lúcio didn’t suspect that you were being dead-serious about what you just said, until he saw you reach down for the purple toy. Putting on a puzzled look, he threw his hands in front of him like a police officer telling you to stop. “Whoah, whoah, wait, you’re not actually gonna…” If he was about to ask you not to grab it and pick it up, then it was already too late. You currently held the dildo in your hand, slime and dirt coating included. Maybe it wasn’t the most delicious thing you’ve ever touched, but you would just have to get over it. Your comrade, however, couldn’t handle the filth. Instead, he grimaced, giving himself a facepalm. “A-awww, Jesus, _fuck_ , [Y/N]!” he squealed.

 

Paying no attention to Lúcio, you made haste from the truck toward the fight. The large object wobbled in your hand like a piece of wet salami, and because of its slipperiness, you had almost dropped it once or twice. At last, you were able to duck behind a chunk of wall that was within throwing distance to where you last spotted Hanzo. You briefly peeked around to make sure that he was still in his place behind the statue. Thankfully, he was still there, huffing wearily as he avoided a few more bullets. You knelt back down behind your hiding spot and pressed your earpiece. Once you were tuned in to him, you started to speak. “Hanzo, it’s [Y/N],” you said. “I have something for you to use against Reaper.” You waited a few seconds until you heard a crackling noise.

 

“ _What is it?_ ” you heard Hanzo exhale from the speaker.

 

“Look to your right,” you answered. “I’ll toss it up now.”

 

Again, you peeked out from your wall. Hanzo had done as you said and had carefully faced himself towards you. Then, as you took a deep breath, you gazed down at the dildo, preparing it in your hand. Your boyfriend was going to question you for incorporating a sex toy into your last-minute battle strategy. It was an unlikely move, but it was worth the risk. Taking one last deep breath, you stood up and faced Hanzo. “Anything for the team, I guess,” you sighed to yourself.

 

You looked just like an Olympic athlete throwing a javelin. Holding the “tool” proudly in the air, you neatly catapulted the dildo into the air.

 

It wobbled like jelly speeding through the air until it made its way safely into Hanzo’s hands.

 

Of course, as you predicted, the male took a good second to examine the instrument, and you could see him turning utterly perplexed. “ _Where… did you get this_?” was all you heard spoken slowly over the signal.

 

You sighed. “Long story.”

 

Another brief pause. “ _Okay_.”

 

“Listen carefully,” you instructed, “This sounds crazy, but I think it may work. I need you to place that on your arrow. Then once Reaper’s about to shoot, you fire that straight into one of his guns.”

 

Hanzo’s voice became stern. “ _[Y/N]… Are you… sure about this?_ ”

 

Wonderful. He probably thought you lost your fucking mind. Maybe you really did. Maybe there was a more appropriate solution that you were totally ignoring. You were beginning to kick yourself for even coming up with this, wondering if you were just better off looking more professional at the expense of failing the mission. Then again, why doubt your natural instincts? You were one of the most esteemed snipers on the battlefield, and for good reason. Peers, superiors and clientele alike had always praised you for your wits, or “having brains over brawn” as they said. And right now, wasn’t that what you were doing? It was worth a shot, at least—no pun intended. “Just trust me on this, Hanzo,” you finally stressed. “This could be our last chance at victory.”

 

Hanzo sighed. “ _Very well_.”

 

The connection had turned off. You released your earpiece as you stared anxiously at Hanzo, who was currently following your directions, as uncertain as he remained. The man pulled out another arrow, and after examining the base of the dildo, he lined it up with the tip. Like chicken on a stick, he stabbed the arrow up into the center of the rubber, giving it a slight wiggle to ensure that the toy stayed firmly where it was. Once he found it secure, he slowly took the arrow and drew his bow just as he normally would. Surely, with the additional weight on his arrow, the marksman knew how to adjust his aim accordingly. If any man in history were to gain the title as the first warrior to slay someone with a sex toy, it would most likely be Hanzo Shimada.

 

Reaper was reloading his guns. When ready, he faced upward at Hanzo’s hiding spot. “Quit hiding like a coward and show yourself!” he sneered in his altered, subhuman voice.

 

Now, here it was. The moment of truth. The climax. The moment of death, honor and redemption. The “High Noon.” Whatever people liked to call it. Oh, holy shit, if only you could’ve watched that fateful second in slow motion…

 

Hanzo moving from his hiding spot…

 

Reaper whipping out his gun and aiming…

 

The arrow getting released…

 

The finger pulling the trigger…

 

And in that moment, you witnessed one man claim victory for his team.

 

But for the other man, things had ended quite horribly…

 

So it was told by the dildo that clogged up Reaper’s gun just as he was firing. Ensued, of course, by a fiery explosion on the unlucky gunman.

 

**_ELIMINATED REAPER._ **

****

The explosion shook the earth and air around it, including where you were standing. You lost your balance and fell over onto your back, your ears ringing loudly in your head. You chose to wait until the noise subsided before trying to get back up, which thankfully didn’t take you very long. Progressively, the deafening ringing was replaced by the faint voices of your comrades. Although you couldn’t understand what any of them were saying, their tones sounded joyful.

****

**_VICTORY._ **

 

Next thing you heard was the heavy landing of feet in the rubble nearby. When the sound of footsteps came your way, you carefully sat yourself up, then looked to your left. To your greatest relief, you found the dark eyes of the marksman staring back into yours, once full of fierceness, now riddled with peace. The distance quickly shortened as he knelt down to your side, and for another moment, he stared at you silently. As you looked deeper into his eyes, to no surprise did you discover that he—the one who shot the triumphant blow—was rather astounded by what he did. By what _he and you_ did. After all, what were the odds of you coming up with some random stunt that he would carry out flawlessly? And with the most unlikely of all equipment? Oh, whatever. You weren’t going to question it too much. In this instance, all that mattered was your victory. “We won,” you murmured.

 

Hanzo nodded. “Affirmative.”

 

You put on a fresh smile. Your team _won_. You knew what that meant for you. You didn’t want to bring up yesterday’s discussion so suddenly, but now that you were so elated, you couldn’t help yourself. Beneath the dirt on your cheeks, a faint blush almost appeared. “Guess I owe you that reward when we get back.”

 

~ooo~

 

Nearly twelve hours had passed. Presently, you and the rest of your crew were back at your current residence for the night, exhausted after a long day of post-battle travel. It was currently nearing 10:00PM in your area, the average time when your teammates got ready to sleep, but you knew that most of them had passed out on their beds _long_ before that point. Thankfully, you and Hanzo had gotten enough cups of coffee during the trip that neither of you were too tired to let Hanzo have his “reward” for winning today.

 

Hanzo had left the bedroom a minute ago to grab himself a glass of water from the kitchen. Meanwhile, you laid yourself neatly on the bed, waiting patiently for him to return. In the interim, you had already stripped down completely as per his request. But this time, instead of just leaving you stark naked, you had also been asked to wear something—and one thing alone—over your bare figure. In all honesty, it was quite flattering for him to let you wear it tonight.

 

Hanzo’s black kimono had to be one of the prettiest things you ever wore to bed. When you first put it on, you felt as if you were wearing a giant blanket. Obviously, it was much too big for you—it was hard for you to move around without the fabric slipping off your shoulder, and even most of the accompanying blue obi was hanging off you when tied around your waist. Still, you couldn’t help but feel kind of sexy wearing your man’s shirt like a dress, especially when you took a look at yourself in the mirror. You loved the way the extra fabric accentuated the length of your arms and legs. In addition, the lovely black color and patterns appeared as elegant on you as they always were on your lover. And naturally, just as it was for Hanzo, one of your bare breasts was showing. You admitted this was kind of blunt, since it didn’t leave so much to the imagination, but it was nonetheless a good addition to the sex appeal—maybe another reason why Hanzo wanted you to try it on.

 

Still, you weren’t as much impressed by the look of the kimono as you were by the feeling of it. The cloth was thicker than you had anticipated, which surprisingly kept your body warm despite the exposure of your left torso. Every time you moved around, you embraced the sensation of every fine knit in the cloth, softly teasing your skin, much like the gentle tickle of white dandelions. In particular, you absolutely adored all the sensations that told you the kimono wasn’t just any man’s kimono but Hanzo’s. Just the thought of him having worn this cloth had already given you that instant dopamine rush: the kind you always felt while eating a delicious piece of cake or having some good sex. The scent of his body—still lingering in the cloth even after it had been washed—was reinforcing this thought inside your head, compelling you to bring the sleeve beside your nose, capturing the beloved fragrance every time you inhaled. Oh, yes. This thing was _heaven_. Hands down, you would totally wear this to bed every night, if you could.

 

After waiting a moment longer, Hanzo returned to the bedroom. The bed was the first thing within his sight as he opened the door, and for that reason, you immediately caught his eye. Closing the door behind him, he took a moment to stare at you.

 

You sat yourself up and returned the gaze. Since Hanzo didn’t have any shirt on, much of your attention went to his exquisite tattoo, then to the rest of his physique.

 

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

 

You blushed, pulling the cloth back up on your shoulder when you felt it slide down again. “Thank you,” you replied. By watching his face, you took note of his brown eyes thoroughly taking in the image of you in his kimono. Then, you began to feel warm as you caught his sight wandering to your fully exposed breast.

 

Hanzo walked closer. His expressionless stare had persisted while he got up onto the bed, then slowly made his way to you. In response, you subconsciously leaned back into the pillows as he crawled up and hovered over your body. Before you knew it, Hanzo had scooped his arm underneath your waist, pulled you up against his chest and shifted himself around. You were brought onto his lap while he leaned his back against a pillow, both arms wrapped around your waist. You sat quietly and smiled as you planted your hands on his chest. On top of being draped in your lover’s clothes, being handled in such a gentle manner told you how much you were valued. You had to hand it to him—he sure knew how to make a girl feel like a diamond, even if she was the one technically pampering him. However, the lovely little gesture was undeniably deserved. Both of you were worthy of adoration tonight. After all, you two were the heroes of the day. He was the sniping king, and you were his queen.

 

Hanzo’s massaged his thumbs in circles upon your waist. After gazing upon your body for a little while more, the marksman cocked a gentle smile. “You wear it much better than I do,” he said with a light chuckle.

 

You softly laughed along with him. “Not sure about that,” you responded. “You always look _perfect_ in kimono.”

 

Hanzo raised his brows. “O-hoh… I am being serious.” His hands slid up along your back, gliding through the folds of fabric. “You do not have any idea how beautifully you would master a woman’s kimono.” Up and down, his palms rubbed your back firmly. “Throw you into a fine one, and you would _easily_ outdo the loveliest geishas out there... W-wait.” Suddenly, his smile broke up into an insecure frown. “T-that came out wrong… I-I meant, not that you don’t look better than they do already... Umm…”

 

You tittered louder this time. “I get what you’re saying, Hanzo.” You smirked and leaned your back into his touch. “But I still don’t think I’d look as fantabulous as you say.”

 

Hanzo’s rare, playful grin returned. “Then I’ll prove it,” he muttered. He then relocated his hands onto your shoulders. You felt yourself getting pushed off his lap and onto your back, allowing the man to crawl forward and hover over you again. Bringing his face merely a couple inches away from yours, he continued. “For our next anniversary,” he breathed, “I will give you an authentic silk kimono of your own.”

 

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you almost laughed again. He had to have been kidding. How the hell was he going to get you a real silk kimono? An average formal one these days would cost him well over 81,000 yen (nearly $800, in American dollars). But from the gleam of his eyes and the depth of his tone, you suspected that your love-struck archer was, in fact, being drop-dead serious about his words. Still, a part of you denied it. “You’re joking,” you ejected.

 

Hanzo shook his head. “But I mean it,” he asserted. His face dipped down closer to your neck. Tantalized by his warmth like you were receiving a handsome bribe, you closed your eyes and said his name through your amused chortle. “Tell me: what color would you like?” he asked, planting a subtle kiss on your neck. “Red?... Pink?...” He kissed the same spot another time. “Hmmm, how about your favorite color? Isn’t it—“

 

“There’s one color I really like,” you interrupted gleefully. Your hand snuck up and petted Hanzo’s head, all while you opened your eyes and delivered a playful smile.

 

In response, Hanzo lifted his head and stared back down at you again. He curiously lifted a brow. “And what is it?”

 

Quickly, your smile turned foxy. “Does _invisible_ count as a color?”

 

That very question triggered something you had never quite seen from Hanzo before. Right away, you could see that the man’s pupils had already grown twice their regular size. The gold of his cheeks soon broke up and faded away into blotches of red. His smirk widened, bigger than ever, crooked with something you couldn’t exactly identify. Mischief, maybe? Then, his eyes turned to slits like those of a cunning wolf, and all you could see was the amber, glimmering like dark gemstones.

 

Sweet lord. That face. You tried to photograph that face as hard as hell into your memory. Oh, that gorgeous, sexual, _motherfucking face_. Just that look alone was enough to turn pure white virgin fantasies into images filthier than the grime caked upon Junkrat’s face. No matter the mood, face or situation, you always thought Hanzo looked sexy. But at this point, viewing this brand new face of his, nothing—and you meant _nothing_ —could ever top it.

 

 

The face he made, because you woke up the inner dragon.

 

In a matching, sensual purr, he responded to your question. “That color…” Before you could stroke his hair again, you felt your wrist being gripped. Next thing you knew, his lips had neared yours. All you could see now were his beautiful dragonesque eyes, shooting yours with steaming lust. “Is my favorite color on you,” he concluded. “ _Personally_.”

 

You closed your eyes. You bit your lip. That’s all it had taken to turn you on.

 

Hanzo roughly took you into a deep, searing kiss. You unleashed a groan into his mouth as he worked against your lips much more vigorously than the usual. While he was at it, he took both of your wrists and pinned them down above your head, holding you firmly in place. During the kissing, he snuck his tongue into you once or twice, just to brush alongside yours, provoking the delicate nerves within and poisoning your mind with his sweet taste. Succumbing to the pleasure of it all, you returned the oral gestures. Moreover, you spread your legs wide beneath him to welcome his waist in between. Hanzo gladly accepted your invitation and laid the rest of his body upon you, planting his torso firmly up against yours while your legs wrapped around and hugged him in. Through his pants, you could already feel his more private areas rubbing up against you, having grown surprisingly stiff already.

 

_He's… So big…_

 

Next, Hanzo’s lips slowly withdrew from your mouth. For a second, the absence of his kisses had you panicking like a drug addict on withdrawal, but you relaxed when he resumed the kisses. This time, he planted succulent kisses in the corner of your mouth and on your chin. After a few kisses, you noticed his lips slowly travelling away from your face and moving downward. His warm wetness graced your jaw, then along your neck, to your collarbone, on your sternum, until he reached your chest. Considering that half of your chest was exposed right there in front of his face, it was really no surprise what he was about to do to you. For that, your body eagerly begged for him to do it.

 

The marksman stared at your left breast for a moment. He glanced up at you once, just to see if you were watching or if you were alright. But when he saw your eyes closed and head tipped back in passion, he looked back down and resumed the gaze, then brought his face down. You moaned again. Carefully, his lips had pressed down against the skin of the breast. His tongue had even escaped to affectionately glaze the area before he withdrew.

 

That same attention was now centered on your bare nipple.

 

Oh, how strange the female anatomy was—why have so many damn clusters of nerves in one specific area of the breast? An area small enough that it could be fully engulfed by a single human mouth? Why give a man the power to make your mind go fuzzy? No woman ever really thought about these questions during foreplay. The answers didn’t matter as much as the feeling.

 

Hanzo took some time to bless your delicate breast with warm, wet sucking, and all you could do was squirm and make noise as you reaped the pleasurable benefits of his touch. Your feminine parts yearned louder for more adoration, namely for the man to enter your most personal area, which had already well prepared itself to accept him in.

 

When he was finished, the man tugged on your nipple one last time with his teeth, before releasing the bud and letting it snap back with a light ripple. Automatically, he displayed a pure look of satisfaction, and his expression intensified when he glanced upon the glimmer of sweat forming on your cheek. He especially took note of the wrinkle of your brows, plus the openness of your mouth as you tried harder to breathe. Indeed, so far, the dragon loved his work of art that was your unraveling.

 

But he was only getting started.

 

Hanzo started to move down your body again. You watched him intently after he released your wrists. He didn’t kiss anything on the way down but only examined the black fabric on you closely, as if admiring how it loosely highlighted your form. Once he came down to the lowest point of your trunk, however, he paused.

 

Without shyness, his head made its way beneath the skirt of the kimono.

 

It felt just like you had been just slammed by some wild, beautiful, whirling tsunami of pleasure. Your current thoughts melted together into a slush in your head. All that came out of you instead of words were plain cries and groans. Right now, your mind was nothing but a mess. A big, wet, sloppy mess whooshing back and forth inside your pretty little head. Yet, you wanted this. You loved being like this.

 

_Oh, the water in his mouth._

_Oh, the pressure of his tongue._

_Oh, the tickle of his beard._

 

The moment you found the pressure rising high in yourself, Hanzo ceased and withdrew from beneath the kimono. Looking back into your eyes, he sat himself up and wiped his mouth. The face of satisfaction had intensified yet again.

 

You stared back at him in awe of his work. Your thoughts were slowly returning to definite shapes again, but all that remained were the withdrawal symptoms. Your lust wasn’t going to be fully quenched. Not until you reached that climax. In the meantime, all you could feel was the killing need. You wanted it. You _needed_ it. You _had_ to have it. Right here, right now, tonight, so help you.

 

You didn’t have to worry, though. Your marksman was going to grant that wish.

 

Hanzo didn’t hesitate to reach for the waistband of his of his pants. As he pulled them down to his knees, out popped his erection within your plain sight. You were in awe at how well the girthy length had defied gravity.

 

“You’d look nice in an invisible-colored kimono, too,” you understated beneath your breath.

 

“Is that so?” Hanzo chuckled lightly. After peeling the pants all the way off his legs, he tossed them off the side of the bed prior to returning his attention to you. Next, the male crawled up to you, gripped both of your legs and pulled you towards him before tossing your limbs over his broad shoulders. “The only time I’d wear that,” he added, “is if you wore one with me.”

 

You lay there, body relaxed, legs growing limp, heart racing. “It’s always better to wear the color ‘invisible’ with someone else,” you joked.

 

He moved your kimono out of the way, then gripped both of your thighs. “Then we shall plan on it.”

 

You clenched the bedsheets. “Deal.”

 

He pulled you in by the thighs, and worked his way into you.

 

Your lips flung wide open with a gasp.

 

“Tight,” he grunted to himself.

 

You could feel yourself growing fuller and stretched out inside. You kept yourself on your back, panting heavily like a woman under a hot sun. Your head flung to the side and dug hard into the sheets beneath. Once again, that mental cloudiness was continuing where it left off, and at a much faster pace at that.

 

Your passionate, lovely cloudiness took off as your lover gave you a fine thrust. Ever so slowly he began, loving your body hard, doing it just the way you like. Like a choreographed dance, his movements were artistically perfect. Truth be told, the man probably wouldn’t have cared if doing it so proficiently all night was going to make his back sore. So long as he impressed you in all the right ways, he would very much be satisfied. And boy, did you thank God for every second of it.

 

When he switched to the next position, you felt yourself growing closer to your orgasm. As Hanzo laid onto his back, he pulled your body up into a sitting position on his lap. That way, you could hold tightly to him, riding his hard-working, muscular body as he thrusted up harder into you. To repay the work, you groaned loudly and worked your hips just as well, which enhanced the thrusts all the more and sent pleasure relaying between your bodies. Since you were no longer paying attention to your kimono, the black cloth had slid off your shoulder from the bouncing and had slowly pooled at your waist. For once, it felt good to have both of your heated breasts free for the atmosphere to cool.

 

Almost five or six minutes into it (that was maybe two or three positions later), Hanzo grumbled that he was close to coming. By that point, the black kimono had come off altogether—it was currently lain beneath the two of you like it had been carelessly thrown on the bed, though neither of you paid any attention to it while lovemaking. Hanzo hadn’t given a care in the world even as his knee rested upon it during your finishing position. He was probably going to regret that later, though, especially since he had just washed it today. But for right now, who gave a shit about clothes when you wanted to stay naked?

 

You sat just in front of him, back up against his abdomen. You rode him with gasps and whines, flinging your arms behind you and around him merely to cling for dear life. He fucked you so hard that you feared falling forward, but the hands gripping your breasts would clearly prevent that from happening. With your body held firmly in place, your flesh had no choice but to take in all the energy of his powerful thrusts, which shook you so hard to the core that you almost felt ready to break in half—that was, if your massive, oncoming orgasm didn’t do it to you before then.

 

“Come for me, my love,” he huffed inside your ear. “I want you to scream my name.”

 

Trying desperately to catch your breath, you said his name through a shaky exhale. “H-Hanzo…”

 

Obviously, it wouldn’t be enough. Hanzo’s breath and tongue lightly grazed the tip of your ear, followed by a bite on your earlobe.

 

You cringed and came closer to climax. “Hanzo,” you were able to groan louder.

 

No. Not loud enough. You two were just on the edge, but it would take one last push.

 

Hanzo was going to give you two that push though—a hefty growl of your name, including a hand that snuck from your breast to pull on your hair. Your head tipped backward, and your exposed neck was met by lustful teeth.

 

The pain and pleasure were such a deadly cocktail: perhaps almost too much to handle. Thankfully, that was relieved as you gave one great shout of his name.

 

Then, the howling.

 

Then, the orgasms.

 

Finally, after roaring out loud and coming inside you, Hanzo collapsed onto the bed, taking you down with him.

 

For about a good hour or so, you two had stayed laying within those exact same positions.

 

~ooo~

 

“Hana, how many times have I instructed for you not to fall asleep in the middle of masturbating? Every time you do that, you risk suffering from exactly what had happened to you today. Not to mention, using a dildo that large isn’t good for you, let alone having it lost inside of you.”

 

D.Va had her arms crossed She made no eye contact with Mercy. Even though this was on her, a lecture was the last thing she wanted right now on top of her present soreness. “I get the message, Mercy,” she groaned.

 

Rolling her eyes with a sigh, Mercy turned and walked the other way. She honestly didn’t want to sound like a broken record for her comrade, anyways. Apparently, that didn’t work anymore. “Very well,” she replied, putting up her index finger. “But hopefully today’s incident helped you learn your lesson.” The girl on the examination table mumbled something under her breath in Korean as she watched the other woman walk back over to a desk in the corner. Mercy went to a thin blue binder of papers that had already been opened up on the desk. Although D.Va couldn’t see it, her expression had twisted into a curious, pensive look while she flipped through a few papers. “In fact,” the doctor added, “you’re lucky that I found you in one piece.”

 

The girl turned her head back to Mercy. “What do you mean?” she questioned. “It was a battle. We’re _always_ lucky to be walking out in one piece.”

 

Mercy finally found the page she was looking for. She took out a pen and scribbled some notes onto it. “Yes, but that’s not what I meant,” she stated while writing. “I’m talking about your encounter with that enemy sniper.”

 

“Who? Hanzo?”

 

“No, the other one, [Y/N].”

 

Hana uncrossed her arms. “You mean the one Widowmaker’s got a new vendetta against?”

 

Mercy paused for a moment. “Yes,” she replied. “That one.”

 

“Oh, tch…” D.Va pulled her phone out of per pocket when her text tone went off. She looked at her screen for a few seconds before she started typing away. “She hasn’t shut up about her _at all_ today. No one has taken Widowmaker down in a long time, so I guess it makes sense that she’s so sour about it. But, anyways,…” She sent the text, then set her phone down. “Why are you bringing [Y/N] up?”

 

Mercy set the pen down and closed the binder. “I was watching her,” she answered. “Needless to say, she made me curious.”

 

D.Va’s memory automatically tuned in to herself at gunpoint. Her face started to grow blank.

 

_“Let’s go, Lúcio.”_

_“Ummm, hello?! Enemy at twelve o’ clock here?!”_

_“Why should I? She’s not part of the objective. Besides, we’ve got others to worry about. Now, come on.”_

 

No matter how many times D.Va thought about that moment, she almost couldn’t wrap her head around it. That sniper—yes, the woman who had the most perfect, piss-easy opportunity to shoot an opponent, ever—didn’t take the shot. Instead, D.Va was left alone. _Unharmed_. Not a hair was missing from her head.

 

That shouldn’t have mattered, though. A simple act of mercy wasn’t going to excuse you from being her formal enemy. You were still going to keep fighting each other until at least one of your heads was blown straight off your shoulder. Hell, even if it was optional, she wouldn’t be that foolish: she wasn’t going to become your friend just because you didn’t feel like killing her today.

 

Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny how she felt about it.

 

It was nice of you to do that today.


	7. A PSA from the Author

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This letter was originally posted to the copy of "Marks" published on Wattpad. The statistics stated in this letter may or may not be accurate for the demographics of AO3.

 

**Friday, September 16, 2016**

Hello, everyone.

 

Thank you very much for supporting me. I hope all of you had a great summer, and for those of you who just went back to school, I hope you’re enjoying your time back, have made lots of friends, gotten good grades, went to some nice parties, and maybe even found some nice-looking ladies/gentlemen to brag about to your exes.

 

Now, I know what most of you are thinking right now. By now, you’ve already gotten your glass of wine and fresh lube set up right next to your computer, expecting another beautiful chapter to this fanfic and are once again ready to spend another wonderful night-in with your daddy Hanzo. But instead, you saw this update from the author, and now you are most likely cussing and screaming, wondering why Puggy wasted her time writing this letter when she could’ve moved her lazy ass on writing Chapter 7. For that, I would sincerely like to apologize to you fans.

 

There is, however, a reason for this update. You guys are probably going to shoot me for this, but I regret to inform you guys that Chapter 7 has been cancelled, and that there will be no more chapter for _Marks_ in the future.

 

Thank you for your understanding.

The Pug Addict

…

…

…

...

...

...

...

 

Just kidding. Did you guys seriously think I would quit writing such crack?

 

But no, seriously, there is a reason for this update. Actually, two reasons. The first is to apologize for the delay in posting Chapter 7. With me being a grad school student, I’ve had a TON of schoolwork popping up weekly. That and kinda, sorta, maybe playing a bit of World of Warcraft: Legion (which by the way is a GREAT expansion, and I recommend you guys try playing the new demon hunter class because there’s actually good story plot for once and NO GRINDING). Still, I’ve been trying to write Chapter 7 here and there whenever I have the time and motivation to.

 

And so, I’d like to thank you guys for being so patient with me, for giving me all the support, and I want to promise all of you that it will most definitely be worth the wait. I have a lot in store for you. I’m pretty sure that while you read, **_you’ll be tied_** to the story.

 

Secondly, I want to bring up something that is a bit more on a serious note. While looking at my reader demographics on my Wattpad account, something had caught my attention almost instantly. According to my age stats, an _alarming_ amount of you—at least 37%—are under the age of 18. Whether that means most of you are 17, 16, 15 or even 12 years old, I honestly don’t know, but under 18 is all my statistics say. Based on the rating, warnings and content in each of these chapters, you guys don’t need me to tell you that the fanfic is only suitable for people 18 and older.

 

However, I understand that this age restriction is based on the legal definition of adulthood in the United States and in most other North American and European countries. In the US, for example, it is illegal for anyone below adulthood (that’s under 18) to view pornography, and although erotic pieces of literature like this one don’t legally qualify as porn, they are still strictly meant for adults only. But if you are from another country, these restrictions may or may not apply to you. Your legal restrictions may be much different from ours, or your country might not have any legal restrictions at all. Your age of consent might be only 16, 14 or 12 years old. The people in your society or culture might not mind sexuality as much as say, Americans do. In other words, depending on who you are, these ratings and content might not be a very big deal to you.

 

But what I’m about to say goes out to everyone under 18 or whoever isn’t an adult yet. There are three things:

 

Number one. All I ask is that you use good judgement. Even though I strive to make this fanfiction about healthy relationships, this fanfiction is not meant to be used as a source of sexual advice or to educate you about sex itself. If that’s what you’re looking for, then I encourage you to speak to someone you trust about the topic, whether it’s a psychologist, a school nurse, a doctor, a sexual education teacher, or any adult that you feel comfortable talking to. Most adults will be more than glad to talk to you about sex and will be willing to answer any questions, concerns or worries that you might have.

 

Number two. I encourage you to trust your gut and go by your comfort zone. Sexual content is everywhere, including here. Actually, it’s smothered everywhere on this god-forsaken site. But that doesn’t mean you have to look at it all. There are ways to avoid these things. If you see anything that makes you uncomfortable, upset or sick, then… stop. Just stop. Close out of the internet. Close your laptop. Turn your head. Walk away. Whatever you have to do, don’t make yourself look at it. If you can’t get what you saw out of your head, then don’t hold it in. Go talk to someone about what you saw and how you felt about it. Again, pick someone you trust who you know won’t judge you. And if you talk to someone who _does_ judge you? They shouldn’t be doing that to you. At all. Go find someone else to talk to instead. Keep on going until you find someone.

 

And number three. Most importantly, I don’t want any of you to ever feel ashamed about sex. Ever. Never, ever, ever. Sex is not evil. Sex is a natural occurrence. All species do it. Sex is how we procreate. It is the only way the human race stays in existence. If anything, it’s a wonderful, wonderful gift to mankind, and it can be a great way to express yourself to the one you love most dearly (or ones, if you believe in polygamy). HOWEVER, like all great gifts, it must be handled with _tremendous_ responsibility and care. But to handle sex with responsibility and care, we must first learn everything we need to know about it. That means learning about the benefits, the risks, the rules, and everything else in between—hence, the reason why we have age limits on sex, since it takes a good amount of time and a nice, developed brain to absorb that knowledge. And once we’ve learned well enough about sex, and when we go out into the world where sexual situations are thrown into our faces all the time, we will always know what to do. And we will always be okay.

 

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I did this because you people are wonderful, and I care about you guys very deeply. I want good things for you in all aspects of life, especially in your relationships. Please, take care of yourselves, and enjoy this lovely weekend.

 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to writing. And studying. And killing demons.

 

Sincerely Yours,

 

The Pug Addict 


	8. Kinbaku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW TWITTER ACCOUNT: https://twitter.com/The_Pug_Addict
> 
> Hey guys.
> 
> Yes, that's right. I'm not dead. Through the fires of hell, I made it here again.
> 
> Sorry it took me so long to get back to this. I spent a little extra time on this chapter, just to make sure you guys get the best quality I can give you. You guys know me. I don't want to create stories for you. I want to create all-around experiences.
> 
> Since it seems I tend to get busy these days and not post for extensive periods of time, I figured now would be a good time to introduce you to my new twitter account. I haven't used it much, but I'd definitely be willing to use it to communicate with fans a lot easier. Not to mention, I can keep you guys posted on the latest updates and answer questions, including those about this story. You can add me at the link provided above. Also, if you haven't already, be sure to add me on tumblr and battle.net, too (I believe that info is provided in my profile).
> 
> So, on that note, sit back, relax, grab your glass of wine and your Hanzo body pillow, and enjoy the show.

Lately, things had been changing. Dramatically.

 

You and Hanzo were fairly used to your ever-evolving relationship, but you two had only taken slow baby steps together. Now, baby steps had turned to giant leaps.

 

It was all thanks to that fresh new crack in the old, powerful barrier that was Hanzo’s self-control. At last, the dragon within had a narrow opening to slip out of as he pleased, and to embrace his newfound freedom, the dragon wasn’t going to waste it by staying inside.

 

Once a shy man in the face of intimacy, Hanzo had grown bold. He wasn’t afraid to express himself anymore, and for that matter, he wasn’t troubled about voicing his own opinions. Or wishes.

 

It began with his emotions. Happiness, sadness, anger, fear, love and shame were no longer hiding behind a blank face. Instead, he shared his feelings like he was stating facts. Most of the time, he did it through calm and simple phrases such as “I am happy because…,” “I am sad because…,” or anything along those lines.

 

Then came the subtle complements during the day: whenever he spotted something appealing, be it the way you dressed, the way you smiled, or even how you brushed that loose little strand of hair behind your ear, Hanzo would point it out immediately. It goes without saying that he was also this way in the bedroom. You learned much more about his preferences from the suggestions he made during your sessions. In particular, he explained the positions he loved most amongst others, as well as the ones he liked the least.

 

While you were surprised—and, maybe a little bothered—that he hadn’t told you any of these things earlier, you were more than glad to know how to make him feel happier. You didn’t mind taking up an opportunity to “wow” him a little more, just as long as you were comfortable, too. In fact, simply pleasing Hanzo made you feel pleased in return. So, you were perfectly fine with the change.

 

Then came the day Hanzo let go of all fear. A day that very well might have changed your relationship. Forever.

 

There was no way you could’ve anticipated it. It wasn’t like Hanzo—well, not the old Hanzo. The old one would’ve done it like a sheepish servant asking his master for more money. This time, it was so subtle. It merely slipped into a typical conversation during breakfast together on a Wednesday morning. He didn’t act dishonorable to you in the slightest, but he didn’t make much of a deal out of what he proposed to you the moment he set down his cup of tea.

 

To you, though, it was a _huge_ deal. You were no match against that sudden little “what if we” question. Right away, your head was polluted with flashing images—fictions that would make a sensible, prim, proper lady gasp in complete terror before rolling her eyes and falling onto her back, turning her into a red, sweaty, unconscious mess like a drunken girl at a fraternity party. You were ready to do just that, until your consciousness was saved by a second overwhelming rush: the one you’d least expect in spite of that request. Come to think of it, you didn’t know if it was something you ever felt before. Though, that was probably because you never heard a man request to do something so wild. It was definitely a conflicting feeling—strange, but strangely good. Were you really supposed to feel that way about something like this? Did having this feeling make you a freak? Probably, but you honestly didn’t care. It was pumping so damn hard through your body, mixing with the adrenaline and forming a sweet cocktail in your veins. It was… Oh, what was it exactly? Curiosity? Eagerness? Daring? No, not really. It was sure as hell something like that, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Whatever this odd new sensation was, this “drive,” you only knew it as the thing that made you answer his request with a big fat “yes.”

 

And it was because of that big fat “yes” that you were now sitting on a bedroom floor, staring at a pile of rope.

 

You sat with poise, hands folded in your lap. You had been sitting for about five minutes while waiting for Hanzo to come out of the bathroom, and you probably hadn’t moved a finger since then. Passing the time, you focused your attention on the mass of coils that had been tossed onto the bed, wrapped up into a loop but now slightly undone, almost like the body of a snake basking in the sun. The rope seemed fairly new, and it looked kind of pretty—shimmery red fibers, made of either silk or satin, spun into perfect twists and forming meters upon meters of fine, thick cord. Clearly meant for decorative purposes, but sturdy, nonetheless. Upon very close examination, the fibers were honesty simple-looking in nature. Their shape reminded you of nothing but what they made—a rope. And only a rope. Still, for such a plain object, it possessed a most thick, dark, suggestive air that seeped from out of its scarlet threads like smoke clouds from a burning drug, much like the vibe you would pick up on during some kind of taboo ritual. And once that air finally reached you, it hit you pretty damn hard. It overpowered you like a shot of black magic, a bolt of thunder that shook you and just couldn’t be shaken off. You were under the effects—adrenaline flowing, palms perspiring, eyes dilating, breath growing heavy so that your lips drooped slightly open. All because of these mere fibers, there was both positive and negative electricity driving your nerves stir-crazy.

 

While your nerves irked you to twitch, your instincts compelled you to keep still as stone. You had no idea where these next few moments would take you, let alone whether they would bring you pain or pleasure (assuming that your marksman knew what he was doing, you wanted to expect the later). Thus, to better the odds of your safety, and to promote Hanzo’s success, you would surrender all physical control from head to toe. Not one finger lifted unless he asked you to do so—or lifted it himself, for that matter. Whatever he needed to do to make it work; he was the master.

 

You almost jumped as you heard the click of a handle from behind you. The sound of the bathroom fan became twice as loud once the door opened. Then, it ceased with the flip of a switch, leaving your ears with nothing but the soft ruffling of movement. You still didn’t turn your head, though just by intuition you could already feel the attention coming from behind and centering on you. Had you not been so clueless of what to expect, the sensation would have made you shiver.

 

There was a light pause in movement, until you felt heavy but soft footsteps coming closer. Instead of coming straight up to you, they drew around to your side. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of sheer black contrasting with a golden tan. Without moving your head, you then laid your eyes on what appeared to be loose cotton pants, the shimmery, coal-colored pattern on the cloth resembling the scales of a dragon. Even the upper part of the figure donned the same cloth: a matching kimono, loosely tied and ending at the thigh. The top hugged the body loosely enough that it hardly covered the chest, teasing your eyes with some of the sun-kissed skin that hid beneath. Though so little had really shown, your concentration was stolen away from the red cord, and your heartrate surged to the sight of the unblemished gold.

 

He continued to walk around you. Dark eyes, serene but curious, were observing you carefully. Maybe he was trying to make sure you were alright, since you hadn’t moved a muscle when he walked in. Either that, or it was to digest the very image of you in this moment, gazing up from the floor, wearing nothing but a thin kimono, sitting with the poise of a cat… Quite a submissive appearance, honestly, and _that_ would get just about any man stirred up a little. After going around you once, he directed his gaze to the bed, and by the shift of his thick brows you could tell he was looking right at the silk rope. For a few seconds, he hesitated as if he were envisioning what to do next, but before he made a move, he turned his head back towards you. “First, need anything?” he muttered softly.

 

You shook your head modestly.

 

The male nodded his head in response. Then, he turned back the other way and moved towards the bed. “Remember,” he said, “Let me know if this is too much for you.” Again, you responded with the motion of your head. Still not hearing a word come out of your mouth, Hanzo shot a glance back at you, and you bobbed your head one more time while he was looking, just to assure him that you were alright. It was then that he returned his focus to the rope, reaching down and running his thick fingers along the cords. Next, he gripped them, carefully unraveling it over the bed. You listened to the sound of the ropes dropping against the mattress as he spread them out. The material sounded much denser than you had anticipated. This eliminated more than half of your worries—for such a fancy rope, it was amazingly sturdy. Strong enough to do the job, no doubt.

 

The atmosphere around the two of you had shifted dramatically once the man turned back around to face you. The end of the silken cord was finally in his grasp.

 

Shyly, you returned his gaze. What you saw made your skin burn with goosebumps.

 

There was suddenly a consuming shadow upon his face. It wasn’t exactly new to you, and for that reason you understood its meaning _very_ well. The power beaming from his deep, dark eyes whispered so much more to you than words could ever convey. He bore a demeanor belonging to a creature ten times his size, standing strong like a mountain yet calm like a river, free from fear as if he were finally acknowledging some true hidden prowess—perhaps a sorcerous effect from the ropes he wielded. It was unclear whether it was the cord that endowed him with power, or if it was actually the man himself, channeling his power into the red silk. But either way, in this moment, the two seemed to be combining into something much larger.

 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Hanzo was growing into something you hadn’t seen before. His stature seemed taller, his chest bigger, his shoulders broader, his eyes fiercer. The power was seeping through his outer shell, magnifying his masculinity tenfold. His appearance was overwhelming enough that you felt as if all the vitals of your body had paused, just before rebooting again at an aggressive speed. It nearly felt like you were riding on a terrifying roller coaster, and you had to admit to yourself that Hanzo looked fairly intimidating. In fact, he almost looked so daunting that it was almost appropriate for the battlefield rather than the bedroom. Damn, how you needed to hurl yourself into a tub of ice if you didn’t get out from underneath that sultry stare soon!

 

And yet, running was the last thing you wanted to do.

 

“Keep still,” the marksman commanded. He started to draw near you. Heat was beating on your skin, more and more, as if the man were a walking furnace. He walked around you and out of your sight, though your tingling nerves kept you very well aware of his position at every waking second. You could feel him kneeling to the ground behind you, just from the way your back was roasting from the warmth of his body. You looked to the floor and bit your lip, taking note of his hot breath gracing the nape of your neck. Although it was all coming from behind, the heat somehow migrated to your face and sank deep into your lower core, a feeling which you couldn’t help but embrace.

 

Then, your shoulders were met by the maximum simmer of flesh. You almost twitched before your brain had magically _raged_ with dopamine, just by that touch. And the massive hands kept there for a good, sweet five seconds, gripping in pulses, thumbs heartily tantalizing points of your skin through your kimono. The hands soon explored further down your arms, your figure feeling so minimized by the girth of his arms, further exaggerated by his loose sleeves. Once Hanzo’s hands reached yours, the next thing you felt was your head being nudged upwards and sideways. You gasped softly, and your breath hesitated. Your eyes drooped before shutting tightly. Just beneath the corner of your jaw, he pressed his face to your skin and inhaled, very deeply. The move was almost beast-like, sufficient to send chills down a human’s spine. To you, however, it was just like pouring gas over an open flame—he had just made the pleasure roar a hundred times louder.

 

But your time to dwell in the satisfaction was cut short. Your eyes shot back open. Hanzo had grabbed both of your wrists. Carefully, he peeled your hands off your lap, then pulled them further back.  Unsure of what was about to happen next, you were unnerved, but you didn’t dare resist. Frankly, the fear of reaching the very end of this “journey” was already creeping up on you, despite having only just started. On the other hand, you were desperate to see the end—the very thing you fantasized about in the first place, the inkling that brought you to do this. And besides, it wasn’t like Hanzo was going to hurt you at all, right? He was an intelligent man. He did his research; he knew what he was doing. So, what did you really have to fear? You were in good hands, right? You were safe?

 

You were about to find that out, right now. The man brought both of your hands together behind your back. One hand held both of them together by the wrist. The other hand you couldn’t feel: instead, it seemed to be reaching off to the side for something, presumably the rope he harnessed a moment ago. You looked back over to the bed, then noticed the pile of red cord, now shifting and unraveling slowly.

 

And then, the silk was wrapped around your wrists.

 

You held your breath. You froze.

 

The rope was tied into a knot, binding your hands together.

 

The trigger was pulled. The adrenaline went off and ran. The “journey” had begun.

 

One loop at a time, Hanzo gradually worked his way up. He wrapped the cord until he reached your upper arms, then back down to your wrists again, making a cross-like pattern along the way. Of course, he left enough room between your arms and made it so that your elbows could bend, just for your personal comfort. With every wrap, your breath grew deeper, taking in as much of the cool air as you could just to settle yourself. It somewhat soothed your rapid heart, but it couldn’t relieve the hotness in your cheeks and belly.

 

As he returned to the wrist, Hanzo suddenly stopped.

 

That abrupt cease of the brush of cord… That was unsettling. _Very_ unsettling. What was up? Oddly, your anxiety was building up again. Hell, you were even on the verge of jittering. Was it some kind of withdrawal symptom? It seemed all too soon for that. Regardless, you already missed the sensation of the binding ropes. _What were you doing, Hanzo?_

 

“Is it too tight?” he asked in a whisper.

 

Your bit your lip, both soothed by the sound of his voice and frustrated that he had to pause just to ask you such a simple question. You shook your head and hummed a faint “no” sound. _Just get on with it._

 

To your relief, the man continued his work. Your hands were pressed down to the small of your back before he threw a strand of the rope over your read, bringing it around the front of you and tightening it firmly around your waist. A few more times, he repeated the waist-binding, tying your arms down in their place simultaneously. It was then that your worries died down, leaving nothing but your revived pleasure. The ropes hugged your lower torso tightly; they coerced you to embrace the heat that was still welling within you. Though Hanzo was just barely laying a hand on you, you were beginning to feel as if the ropes had nearly the same effect as such. To have your lover caress you on the waist, embracing you with his arms, running his hands along your stomach? That was certainly a touch you always loved. As of now, there was nothing there but a few loops of rope. Nothing more. Yet, somehow, you just couldn’t feel that big of a difference. Damn, what kind of witchcraft was this? Should a mere object be able to replicate the comfort of another body? Should you really be able to feel ecstatic like this, just from a silk rope? It was just a rope. _A rope._

 

So you thought, until your head was yanked upward. You cringed as your hair was tugged tightly. Hanzo’s palm had ensnared itself in your tresses until his knuckles were up against the back of your skull. Opening your eyes slightly, you found yourself directly staring into the man’s face. The darkness in the room casted a shade over his face, but you could catch a glimpse of his comely brows, his etched jaw and his pronounced cheekbones. Not to mention, the shadows did not hide but rather exaggerated a much darker countenance, this one _far_ more intimidating than the last. What struck you the hardest was the eerie sparkle in his eyes. It was enough to put the blackest, star-dusted night sky to shame—deep, dark irises that still roared power, now tainted with a hint of lust.

 

Your cheeks flushed red. Your eyes widened up. Your pupils grew. You could feel the temptation dripping from his stare into your own eyes. All the blackness, all the temptation poured into you, and once his toxin trickled down into your head, it burned into your mind like an acid. You could feel _everything_. You received his silent message through the gaze. It all became clear to you. Quickly, you were reminded of _whom_ this was all about, and _who_ was the master here, and you knew right away that it definitely wasn’t the silk rope. If anything, it was just a mere tool, taking orders from its master as if it were another body part of his, having only as much value as he gave it. All in all, what was going on was a black magic of sorts: Hanzo was doing the impossible. He _wasn’t_ touching you, but he _was_ touching you. _What power was this?_

 

Bending your head back just a little more, Hanzo’s face came down upon the dead center of your exposed throat. You shut your eyes and released a quiet gasp as your own face was pressed up to the side of his neck. From this position, you caught the much more potent combination of his natural scent, mixed in with some brand of shower gel. Such a heavenly sensation would have caused your body to go limp and fall into his lap, had he not already taken you by surprise by pressing his nose and lips to your sensitive flesh, inhaling as deeply as the first time. Your heart fluttered to the tickle of heat and air dancing over your skin. The continuous tug of your hair reminded you once more of the real strength of Hanzo’s arms—oh, yes, those limbs were _definitely_ built to hold a bow. In fact, from the way this muscle-clad being handled you now, you were pretty sure that he could snap your neck if he wanted to, and had you been any enemy of his, he could break any of your bones like mere twigs. Yet, obviously, he did not want to. It was clear as crystal what he wanted instead. You knew what was putting him in this bizarrely dark trance, what was turning him from man to beast, what was _driving_ the man to use a scarlet rope amongst all things as the tool of choice to catch his prey.

 

Yes, in this moment, you knew who made him turn into his inner dragon. That was all it took to make that heat flare in your body one more time, before you realized you had caught on fire with lust.

 

Feverishly, you embraced every next bind he made on your body. Like an experienced craftsman, he created knots and strands in intricate patterns that held you tightly in place while decorating your figure. The cord wrapped around the base of your neck and surrounded your breasts like a frame around works of art. Diamond patterns hugged your torso tightly all the way down to your hips before snaking down one of your legs to the toe. Your arms kept in their place behind your back with a few extra wraps; they were bound from moving a single muscle, although they were now craving to embrace the master of the ties. And you loved every damn second of it. These satin fibers were so possessive of you, and you _loved_ it. The squeeze on your limbs, the guidance of Hanzo’s palms, his scent smothered over the cords, in your hair and on your kimono— _you craved it all_.

 

Soon, all the ropes were spent, and Hanzo was making his last knot. Once he was finished, he got up from the floor and rubbed his hands together. For the last time, he slowly walked around you, eyes examining every detail of his masterpiece. This time, however, his eyes had a rather satisfied glitter, and pride sat on the corners of his lips.

 

There you were. The handiwork. The prey. The beauty entangled in the nest of the dragon. You couldn’t believe what he had done to you. Never have you felt so lovely in your life. Never have you felt so coveted before. Never by a man so astounding as this one. You were in such a tremendous euphoria that you had almost forgotten about the ropes—your consciousness felt as if seeping just outside of you, forming a glowing halo around you. You were shining. You were glowing like the moon. Your physical body was so limited, yet you felt yourself floating free.

 

And being able to gaze into the handsome face of your powerful lover, letting him see you in this gorgeous form made you feel all the more incredible. You knew why he did this to you. You were his. _All his._

 

He was the mighty dragon god, you were his goddess, and the two of you were high up in the heavens.

 

At last, you opened your lips. “ _I feel so beautiful_ ,” you whispered in Japanese.

 

Hanzo grinned. “ _Because you are_ ,” he murmured back. He treaded towards you, still standing proudly. You eyeballed the approaching marksman from top to bottom, cheeks turning a brighter red after taking in every detail. Honestly, you weren’t sure what made you sweat the hardest: the charming smirk, the currently exposed chest and stomach, or the sudden shift in the way his pants fit at the groin. Regardless, you were on the verge of going lustfully mad. You were a thirsty animal looking straight at water. You knew what was coming.

 

Hanzo knelt down beside you, then scooped his arms beneath you. Effortlessly, he lifted you up in bridal fashion. You were a bit surprised that none of the ties had shifted from him moving you; perhaps it was a sign that he did a good job on you. The same way he would in a victory march, he carried you over to the bed, taking a seat at the foot and setting you on his lap. Then, quickly, he grabbed your legs, and before you knew it, your legs were flung around each side of his waist. For a moment, you were a little worried that would fall back, but you relaxed when you felt his arm slip behind you to support you. Nevertheless, you were startled once more as you felt cool air hit your chest and stomach. You glanced down, eyes bulging as you realized that Hanzo was yanking your kimono open enough to expose your breasts.

 

“Look at me.”

 

You took deep breaths. Your torso had been pressed roughly up against his, hard enough that your hearts could drum against each other through the skin and bone. A hand slipped under your chin and guided your face upward, and you stared in that direction without objection. This time, you saw that Hanzo’s countenance had changed drastically. The glimmer of pride was now replaced with much more seriousness. At first glance, it looked like the face of the older Hanzo. In a way, it was a firm reminder—though he was behaving like a much different man tonight, he was nonetheless the same one. So, you tried to look at him, the same as always. In pure silence, your eyes connected with his, and in your head, you convinced yourself to see that same man, decked in his honor, composed as an emperor with the grace of a heron. The contrast was throwing you off a bit, but you would get used to it. You couldn’t deny it. Indeed, it was the same man, right here, right now.

 

He stared back into your orbs intensely. “Tell me,” he whispered. “What do I look like?”

 

Your brow twitched slightly. What did he mean? What did he _look_ like? It was a peculiar question, but maybe he was trying to go somewhere with this, something meaningful at least. Still, you had no clue what to say. Thus, you settled with the first word that popped into your mind. “Handsome,” you replied.

 

Hanzo shook his head. “No.” He pressed a finger up against your lips. “Not that,” he commented. “Not what I want to hear.”

 

You shot a puzzled look. What exactly did he want to hear? You couldn’t read Hanzo’s mind. It didn’t help you that he was asking such a cryptic question, either.

 

“What change have you seen?” he rephrased.

 

Your gaze softened. It suddenly donned on you. He was talking about the newest Hanzo. _That_ you knew the answer to. “You look…. mighty.”

 

He hummed. His eyes squinted. He cracked a faint smile once again. You waited for a response as his thumb traced along your jawline. His face was close enough to yours that the single loose strand of his hair lightly graced the bridge of your nose. His breath was beginning to grow louder, and subsequently his breath turned dense against your lips. When he spoke again, his voice had grown heavy with passion. “Then, I want to thank you,” he whispered.

 

 “For what?” Your eyes drooped. The tenderness in your chest begged you to bring your face a bit forward.

 

“For setting me free.”

 

“Wait… What do you—“

 

You could say no more. Open lips clashed against yours and captured your breath. Eyes rolling back and closing, you let yourself go, quenching your thirst and indulging in the moment. While getting lost with you in the kiss, Hanzo’s kimono was loosened enough that it had already slid off his torso, all while his hands slid down to the waistband on his pants.

 

It wasn’t long before the dragon had definitively set himself loose for the next while. Your ties had stayed on for the most part, but you felt yourself just as capable of going wild as he was with you. From every which angle he could, he gave it all to you, rough like the majestic beast he was. There was no holding back. He didn’t even bother to pay attention to the level of noise he was making, let alone his fiery grunting, moaning and growling. Maybe his wildness was enough to get anyone in the next room complaining to you in the morning, but you, of course, didn’t give a care in the world. You relished the thunderstorm your dragon made inside you, down to the bone. You fell in love with the roaring fires of passion upon your breasts. You adored the way your dragon consumed you, caressed you, claimed you in every way imaginable. Oh yes, this was Hanzo. This was his ultimate form. His _whole_ form. Beautiful, powerful, complete and whole. Thanks to you, never would it be suppressed. Never, ever again.

 

And, that night, it was fulfilled. The inner dragon had cherished his freedom to the fullest. Having had enough, he eventually slipped back into the little crack of his chamber to rest.

 

Deservingly, Hanzo slept soundly, dreaming about a hunt in the woods.


	9. Haiku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. Happy belated Thanksgiving, and hoping that everyone survived Black Friday.
> 
> As a very early Christmas gift, I have very SUPER EXCITING NEWS to tell all my fans. In celebration, I've decided to post this very quick holiday chapter I've made to make the news known. As you'll quickly find out, Junkrat knows and is super happy about it, and he absolutely can't wait to show it to you.
> 
> Enjoy!

Christmas—oh, what hell was set loose upon human civilization in its name. Though it was a delightful time of the year, you wanted to hear absolutely none of it until the turkey and pumpkin pie came out of your ass. As if having that holiday shoved down your throat since October wasn’t bad enough, the dreaded post-Thanksgiving war of blood, sweat and tears was here at last, when Christmas _really_ reared its ugly head: the day they called Black Friday. Wanting to keep your head in tact on your shoulders and your bones from breaking, you knew very well not to go anywhere near a single store today.

 

The only two people who were ballsy enough to go out this morning were Tracer and Junkrat. With lightning speed and enough energy in her to power an entire city, Tracer would fair out pretty well. She was fast enough to beat the crowds and avoid any bitchy, bloodthirsty shoppers. Junkrat would probably be okay, too, though the long lines in front of him wouldn’t be so lucky.

 

Everyone else, on the other hand, chose to stay back at the cabin. Roadhog stayed in bed all day, still recovering from his typical Thanksgiving food coma and using the bathroom almost every hour due to vicious diarrhea (served him right for eating all the deviled eggs last night). Lúcio had already gotten over his hangover yet still wanted to bum around. You and Hanzo, of course, figured you’d do the same.

 

Plus, with all the heavy snow outside, it was no doubt a “stay in and snuggle up with a blanket and book” kind of day, and you two did just that. As toasty as a pair of buns, you and Hanzo snuggled up together on the sofa. A large fuzzy blanket had been pulled over your bodies while steaming hot cups of tea warmed your hands. To top it off, a fire had already been started in the fireplace, reviving the room with a warm glow and the fresh smell of pine trees. It felt sort of like you were in a holiday commercial, only without the cheesy over-exaggerated smiles and laughs. No rushing, no stress, no place you had to be. Ahhhh, now, _this_ was how to kick off the perfect holiday season.

 

“What are you in the mood for?” you asked, staring down at the Kindle tablet that was placed on your lap and propped up by your legs.

 

Hanzo hummed inquisitively. With his arms already curled around your form from behind, his thick thumb stroked and tapped against the screen. “Junkrat recommended something for me,” he answered.

 

You gazed at the screen curiously. “What’s that?”

 

“A haiku book.” He tapped a button leading to his e-book collection. “It’s a new one that was published today. It’s very good, he said, so, I downloaded it. Only about three dollars, so I figured I’d give it a shot. Besides, I enjoy haiku very much.” As he scrolled down, you couldn’t help but crack a smirk to yourself. On the surface, Hanzo honestly didn’t seem like the kind of man who loved to read in his spare time, let alone look at poetry—a friendly reminder of his soft side, if his gentleness wasn’t enough proof already. As the archer tapped on the Kindle again, you peered down carefully at the screen to look at the e-book he selected. Your eyes skimmed quickly over the cover image, its text printed in a bold black over a contrasting background that essentially reminded you of the Japanese flag.

 

_100 Haiku Poems to Help You Survive Today_.

 

_By The Pug Addict._

 

Your brow twitched. You glanced over the name of the author a second time. The Pug Addict? Kind of a stupid pen name, if you asked yourself. Clearly not the author’s real name, unless his or her parents were smoking something intense when they named the baby. Regardless, this individual could’ve at least been called something more realistic. Hopefully this author wasn’t some measly middle school kid, or worse, an internet troll. Then again, Junkrat had already seen this author’s work. If any of the two cases were true, he would not have recommended this book in the first place. Other than the name, this e-book _did_ look quite promising, and you weren’t afraid to expand your horizons for once.

 

Once Hanzo selected the book, the cover image popped up and filled the entire screen. With the flick of his fingers, he flipped quickly through the opening pages without once giving them a glance. At last, he stopped at a page where the book’s title was restated at the top in black bold font. Just below were the first three poems of the entire collection. However, the marksman did not begin reading aloud. There was a silent pause. Was he expecting you to read aloud for him? “Hey, do you want to start first, Hanz—?” You turned your head around, stopping yourself when you immediately noticed a marked expression on his face. Still looking down at the text, his lips had compressed a bit, and his thick brows were scrunched. You frowned in response. “What’s up?” you asked.

 

“These titles,” he murmured. “Are these… haiku?”

 

What was wrong with the titles? You faced the Kindle again and read the title of the first poem.

 

_A grocery store cashier checks out a customer._

 

You were still puzzled. “Well, what do you mean by traditional haiku?” you asked. “I don’t see anything wrong here.”

 

Hanzo shook his head. “Ummmh… N-never mind,” he dismissed. “It’s just… traditional haiku usually reflects on nature, not people as much. I suppose I’m just used to more old-fashioned poems, but it doesn’t matter…. Would you like me to read first?”

 

“Go on ahead.”

 

“Very well.” He took a deep breath. He kept one hand on the Kindle so that he could flip pages when needed. The other hand retracted to your waist, and his arm snaked around you, giving you a fair squeeze against him. Then, he began to read the first one.

 

“ _One cashier. One line._

_Versus one customer with_

_A thousand coupons_.”

 

Well. That sounded… deep?...

 

Both of you were frowning right now. It wasn’t a _terrible_ haiku. If anything, you actually found it kind of funny. Still, something about the nature of this poem was throwing you off. Maybe this book really was a troll. Then again, it was a bit unwise to judge a book by its first poem. You had 99 more poems to go; there had to be at least one poem better than that one. “Read the next one,” you said.

 

Hanzo nodded. He began to read the second poem.

 

“ _A birthday girl gets her first car_.

 

“ _Dreams of a Mustang,_

_Gone when she sees a yellow_

_AMC pacer_.”

 

An AMC pacer? Like the kind in 70’s comedy films? Christ, those things were hideous. That would certainly be the biggest let-down ever on a teenager’s birthday. Imagine having to go to school every day, pulling up in front of all your peers in that thing. A tragic thought, but it almost made you chuckle. Nevertheless, Hanzo wasn’t so impressed. He spoke like a disgusted, snobby lady. “What the hell? Is this a joke?”

 

“Definitely not the ‘traditional’ haiku,” you half-giggled. You were somewhat figuring it out now, and for that matter, you wish you had read the book’s description earlier. Not a serious book at all. Not in the slightest. Of course Junkrat would recommend something like this, and to his error, he’d forgotten that Hanzo didn’t share the same taste. Despite the misunderstanding, perhaps you were a little interested to see the remaining poems.

 

Hanzo scoffed. “There has to be something decent in here, at least,” he muttered. With another flick, he turned to the next page. “Here. ‘ _A soccer player tries to score a goal_.’ This one looks like it has _some_ potential…. Now, let’s see.” He cleared his throat before starting.

 

“ _Goalie interferes,_

_And by the might of his foot,_

_One ball slays two balls_.”

 

Right away, you released a snort. That poem definitely wasn’t meaningful, but it was surely better.

 

The Asian glared at the screen, then blinked twice. “… Really?”

 

“Oh, come on,” you beamed a little. “You have to admit that was clever.”

 

“More like distasteful.” He flipped a few more pages. “Haiku is supposed to be peaceful and elegant, not like _this_ garbage. If this is the best that Junkrat can find, then clearly that man doesn’t know what high-quality literature is, even if it hits him in the face.”

 

“But we’ve only read three poems,” you argued. “Maybe he’s just trying to introduce you to something new for a change. Give it a chance.”

 

Hanzo sighed. “Fine.” He stopped scrolling.

 

“Alright. How _about_ that one?” You pointed to a poem title at the top of the page.

 

_A girl tries on new shorts._

 

“Interesting title,” Hanzo commented, raising a brow. “But if you insist…”

 

“ _Three sizes too small._

_Fat ass pours out of the top._

_She will buy eight pairs_.”

 

You laughed louder than the first time. That one was so true that it hurt.

 

“U-ugh, _iyarashii_.” The man’s lips had curled into a snarl. He sighed and wiped his forehead. “[Y/N], I do _not_ want to read this anymore,” he protested.

 

You nearly acted like a begging child. “Why not?” you whined.

 

“Because these poems are only getting more stupid as we read.”

 

You shot a glance at Hanzo like he had three heads. “These are meant to be hilarious, not serious,” you replied. “You don’t find these funny at all?”

 

He shook his head. “No, just awful. The poet sounds like a school boy who got forced to write haiku and just half-assed it.”

 

“… But we’ve literally only read four poems.”

 

“Still. I hate them.”

 

You let out a sigh. You were very eager to see more of these poems, but your boyfriend wasn’t feeling the humor. You could always read the book by yourself later on, but reading honestly wasn’t as fun without Hanzo doing it with you. To meet him halfway, you formulated a solution. “Then I’ll tell you what” you said. “Read one more poem. Just one more. If you don’t like it, then we can stop reading this book. Deal?”

 

Hanzo’s expression softened. He stared at you for a moment. He could tell from the tone of your voice that you wanted to continue, and though he didn’t agree with you on this haiku, perhaps he was a little more unwilling to make you unhappy than to read one more ridiculous poem. Taking a deep breath, he made his decision. “Deal.”

 

You nodded, then returned your gaze to the screen. Once again, Hanzo turned a few pages, and at last, he picked another poem at random. Right now, he was probably hoping it was sure as hell a good one.

 

Then, taking one last deep breath, he read it.

 

“ _A young man reads a magazine._

 

“ _Sexy centerfolds._

_Turns the page, then drops the book._

_Mom was on page twelve_.”

 

You couldn’t help it. One more time, you choked up, and you unleashed a wheezing laughter. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t enough to please the archer. He picked the Kindle up from your lap and practically tossed it onto the other end of the couch. “DONE.”

 

Simultaneously, you heard the cabin door bust open, followed by the whistle of wind and the rustling of plastic bags. Your heads turned to the front door, the first thing you see being a robotic-looking peg leg. The rest of the funky, slender figure followed, and before you knew it, you were staring at a merry Junkrat, dressed in snow gear (save the bomb vest and RIP-tire on his back) and carrying two handfuls of shopping bags. “We’re hooooomme~,” he sang loud enough for the whole cabin to hear.

 

Following straight behind Junkrat was a zipping, blue streak that streamlined into the room and bounced around the place in a zig-zag pattern, leaving behind dozens more shopping bags in almost every corner. The blue flash disappeared to reveal Tracer standing next to the tall young man. Amazingly enough, she didn’t appear any bit tired, despite having been shopping for almost twelve hours, though as she turned to Junkrat, her countenance spelled a bit of disappointment. The woman placed her hands on her hips, staring down at his bags. “You got _all_ of them, didn’t you love?” she sighed.

 

“Hell yeh, I did!” Junkrat said proudly. Setting the bags down, he reached into one of them and pulled out a boxed-up _My Little Pony_ doll. He presented the toy to Tracer. “Seventy p’cent off,” he stressed. “Ain’t gonna bea’ tha’ deal anywhere else.”

 

His joyous attitude didn’t change the look on the Brit’s face. “But Junkrat, was it really necessary for you to bomb that poor old lady in front of you for all those? She got there first. Besides, she was probably only going to take just _one_. You, meanwhile, wanted to buy _ten_ of those—way more than you need, dear. Couldn’t you have just spared one for her?”

 

His eyes widened in defiance. “Wha? No way!” he squeaked as he hugged the box childishly. “If ya get a _My Little Pony_ doll, ya ‘ave teh buy at least more than of ‘em so tha’ ya doll ain’t lonely. With a proice like tha’ in there, ya moight as well be cool n’ get _all_ of ‘em so tha’ the friendship goes all ‘round. And don’t ya realize tha’ this was the last Pinky Pie doll they had in there? Wha’ if the ol’ lady went for _this_ one and not the others, hmm? Then I wouldn’t be able teh get the whole collection. Ever!”

 

Tracer rolled her eyes and groaned. She wouldn’t bother; no one could possibly challenge the fucked-up logic of Junkrat.

 

Junkrat stopped hugging the toy to his body once he caught a glimpse of you and Hanzo in the great room. Spinning towards your direction, he perked up. “Oi, hello theh, ya two. Slept well last noight? Enjoyin’ ya day in?”

 

You would’ve smiled and answered the Australian, had Hanzo not said something before you could. “Junkrat, what the hell?” were the only words growled from right beside you.

 

In confusion, the other man dropped his smile. “Huh? Whadya mean?”

 

Hanzo placed his hand on your back to usher you off his lap. You pulled the blanket off yourself and scooted off of him, allowing him to stand up from the sofa. Shooting Junkrat a discontented stare, the marksman crossed his arms. “That book,” he said. “It was one of the _worst_ I’ve ever read.”

 

“Realley?” The other twitched a brow and scratched his head. “Damn, Hanz. I thot’ ya’d love it. I thot’ it was pretty fockin’ histerical, an’ ‘twas haiku. Ya favorite!”

 

Hanzo paced toward him. “That was _not_ haiku. That was a _monkey porno_ , probably written by some creatively-challenged, unemployed girl who watches old anime shows on Netflix all day, lives in her parents’ attic, and smells like chicken soup!”

 

Junkrat’s eyes grew wider with every inch that Hanzo came closer. Though the Asian was slightly shorter than he was, he couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by the demeanor. Hands in front of him, he gestured to Hanzo. “Hey, _hey_ now,” he tried to pacify. “I get it. Ya hated it. Ev’yone’s entitled to their ‘pinion, but no need ta get all worked up ‘bout one silley book, mate!”

 

Hanzo stopped just an inch or two away from the rat’s face. “Well, I have the _right_ to be,” he baulked. “That ‘silly book’ was nothing but a dishonorable _insult_ to one of the most beautiful forms of art that my culture has ever produced! Hell, that’s probably just as bad if not worse than when they put Scarlet Johansen in the lead role for _Ghost in the Shell_!”

 

Junkrat shrugged his shoulders and scrunched his brows. “What’s wrong with Scarlet Johansen, mate?! I thot’ s’was good in tha’ movie!”

 

“She was playing a Japanese woman, dammit!” yelled Hanzo. “Does she look any Asian to you?!”

 

With a worried look on her face, Tracer butted in. “Fellas, please!” She placed her hands on each of the men’s shoulders.

 

You sighed and got up from the couch, then looked at Hanzo. “Junkrat wasn’t trying to offend or insult you, Hanzo. Nobody was.”

 

Hanzo spun around to look at you with enraged eyes. He pointed a finger at Junkrat. “Does his careless not shock you? Are you just going to let this go?! Had this ignorant, filthy, blonde, white-trash clown shown it to the wrong person, he would’ve gotten castrated!”

 

Clearly, the name-calling had pissed him off. Junkrat’s ash-covered nose scrunched up. “’Least _my_ parts are big enoff t’get castrated!” he sassed.

 

Whoops. Crossed the line.

 

You cringed silently.

 

Tracer covered her mouth.

 

Unsurprisingly, Junkrat was soon looking at a face that spelled blood and death, scarlet red pooling beneath the skin. Slowly, the enraged one hissed in low volume. “And just what the fuck are you implying, Jamison Fawkes?”

 

Conversely, the Australian appeared unaffected by the man’s boiling anger. His rodent-like face gradually stretched out into a smartass look. His eyes squinted and narrowed upon Hanzo, and he placed his fists on his hips, bending over slightly enough to bring his face just a bit closer than what Hanzo’s comfort zone would allow. “Ya heard me,” Junkrat replied, emphasizing every word in a slow-paced mutter. “I’m sayin’ that…. ya have… a _teeny_ … _tiny_... _LITTLE_ …”

 

~ooo~

 

**_3 Hours later…_ **

 

~ooo~

 

His legs were cramping. His body was aching to move. Even if just by an inch. He tried to squirm, tried to struggle against the bonds, but it was no use. The ropes kept him fastened down to the chair too tightly, so much that it felt like he was glued to the seat. All sorts of fluids were running down from his eyes and nose. Damn, he wanted a tissue. He’d been screaming so loudly over the past couple hours that his throat went raw, rendering his cries into silent, wheezing sobs. It wouldn’t matter how loud of noise he made anyways—nothing would tune out the audio reading of the wretched _My Little Pony_ erotic fanfiction booming in the background.

 

“How does it feel, _Junkrat_?” muttered Hanzo, lips curled sadistically. He stood just beside the Australian, mouth just beside the ear. “Does this make you feel… uncomfortable?”

 

Jamison sniffled. “Oh, _fock_!” he blubbered. “Not Apple Jack… Oh, Christ…. How? How in th’ fock has she not ripped in half?... How th’ fock do ya do tha’ with a wate’melon? A goddamn wate’melon!”

 

Hanzo shushed him. “It’s getting to the best part,” he whispered teasingly. At the end of that sentence, his grin had almost turned evil.

 

Junkrat hung his head. “Hanzo, ya a fockin’ asshole…”

 

“Why, thank you. I intend to be.” He stood back up, crossing his arms before turning around. Junkrat’s eyes had widened and watered up again as they remained glued on Hanzo, even as he started to walk away. Was he just going to leave him there until the entire reading had ended? There was a 99.99% chance the answer was yes. Realizing how utterly hopeless his case was, he loosened his neck again and looked back down at the floor, a booger hanging out his left nostril. Poor, poor Jamison Fawkes: he really shouldn’t have put his foot in his mouth today.

 

You were already standing by the staircase, already watching Junkrat’s fanficition torture unfold. Sure, maybe you felt a bit of pity for the young man, and maybe the explicit, audible online fanfiction readings of his favorite ponies was sort of cruel. Then again, after what he spewed out of his unfiltered mouth at Hanzo today, he certainly had it coming. Provided that no harm came to him, you didn’t see anything wrong with letting the junker learn a lesson.

 

Hanzo let his arms fall back to his sides. He walked up to you and erased the sinister look, putting a softer smile in its place. “We have about a half hour before that recording ends,” he murmured. “Want to go make something to eat?”

 

“Hmm… Not exactly hungry right now,” you answered. “You’ll probably hate to hear me say this, but I still kind of want to browse through that haiku book.”

 

“Ugh, [Y/N].” Hanzo frowned. “That’s not even authentic haiku poetry. I want to introduce you to good works, not _that_ bullshit.”

 

You shrugged. “Yeah, I know, but still. Just out of curiosity, I figured. Those poems are pretty funny, but that doesn’t mean I think they’re serious. In respect to the art of haiku, those things suck.”

 

“…. I want _you_ to suck. Not the book.”

 

You blinked twice? “Wait. Huh? What do you—“

 

It didn’t take any explanation. Hanzo had a dead-serious look on his face, but a suggestive one.

 

You blushed. “O-oh…”

 

The marksman’s mouth stretched into one more grin. He chuckled to himself softly. “Again,” he said. “We have thirty minutes. If you want… that’s plenty of time.”

 

You cracked a mischievous smile. “Junkrat’s room?” you whispered.

 

Hanzo raised a brow, somewhat surprised by your suggestion. Still, by the gleam in his eyes, he wasn’t going to say no to that idea. Guiding you by the shoulders to turn around, he ushered you to start up the stairs. As you walked up, he followed right behind you, hands unable to resist touching your waist, thoughts practically vivid enough to mentally block out Junkrat as he remained in his chair and cried like a little bitch.

 

~ooo~

 

**_“100 Haiku Poems to Help You Survive Today”_ **

**_By The Pug Addict_ **

****

**_Now available on Amazon.com:_ **

**_https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B01MTSPDCL_ **

****

**_Coming to the Apple iBooks store December 2016._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the link in the text doesn't work, here's some other ones:
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&field-author=The+Pug+Addict&search-alias=digital-text&text=The+Pug+Addict&sort=relevancerank
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MTSPDCL
> 
> Please, definitely check this book out. Worst case scenario, you totally hate it, and all you've lost is only like $3. So, give it a shot today.


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